LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

Mr.    H.    H.    KM  iani 


LIBRARY 
X 


THE  DRAMATIC  WORKS 
OF  BALZAC 


VOLUME  II. 


he  Dramatic 
Works  of  j& 
Honore  de  Balzac 


FIRST 

ENGLISH 

TRANSLATION 


Rendered       into 
English        by 

E.  de  Valcourt-Vermont 


V    O     L    U     M     E     2 
THE    STEP-MOTHER 


ME     RCADET 


GEBBIE  &  COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 


VMH   1001.   BY 

WILLIAM    N.    LEE 

•  nom   OP  THI    LIBRARI.M    OF  Oo 
W»»MineTON,     D.  O. 


According  to  the  respective  dates  of  their  produc- 
tion, the  drama  and  the  comedy  included  in  this 
volume  are  the  last  ones  that  came  from  the  pen  of 
the  indefatigable  novelist.  In  fact,  Balzac  never 
witnessed  the  "  first  night "  of  Mer cadet,  which  was 
presented  at  the  Theatre  du  Gymnase  Dramatique, 
on  August  24,  1851,  i.  e.,just  one  year  and  six  days 
after  the  death  of  the  great  Frenchman. 

The  reader  will  agree  with  the  professional  critics 
in  recognizing,  in  both  these  plays,  qualities  that  are 
lacking,  to  a  certain  degree,  in  the  three  dramatic 
efforts  contained  in  Volume  I.  The  action  is  more 
compact,  the  dialogue  quicker  and  livelier,  and  the 
climaxes  a  great  deal  more  satisfactory  than  in 
Quinola's  Resources,  for  example.  It  seems  as  if  the 
master  had  realized,  to  some  extent,  his  deficiencies 
as  a  playwright  and  had  forced  himself,  with  his 
usual  energy,  to  obey  more  closely  the  stern  require- 
ments of  the  stage.  In  our  time  of  "  theatre  popu- 
laire  "  and  "  theatre  naturaliste  "  he  would  have  met 
with  a  very  different  welcome.  The  influence  of 
Scribe  and  his  imitators,  all-powerful  in  those  days, 
has  so  completely  vanished  from  French  literary  cir- 
cles that  it  seems  to  have  never  existed.  The  depth 

5 


of  feeling  and  the  pitiless  logic  which  are  paramount 
in  the  problem  plays  of  the  present  generation  are 
certainly  much  akin  to  the  methods  used  by  Balzac. 
In  fact  it  is  surprising  how  he  seems  to  have  had  the 
intuition  of  the  coming  stage  era;  but,  like  most 
precursors,  his  own  people  refused  to  approve  his 
innovations,  and  crushed  them  under  their  cruel 
Parisian  ridicule. 

But  posterity  has  declined  to  confirm  the  verdict 
of  Balzac's  contemporaries.  As  early  as  1869,  the 
Comedie  Francaise, — the  proud  and  severe  guardian 
of  Gallic  stage  traditions — added  Mercadet  to  its 
regular  repertoire  and  there  is  hardly  a  year  when  it 
is  not  produced  in  the  beautiful  Theatre  of  the  Rue 
Richelieu.  As  Marcel  Barriere  wrote:  "Never  has 
the  greed  and  lack  of  all  principles  that  characterize 
a  certain  class  of  speculators  been  denounced  more 
sea  thingly  and  with  greater  in  trepidity. ' '  Mercadet 
is  the  natural  companion  of  that  other  terrible 
indictment  against  those  modernized  highway  rob- 
bers and  financiers:  The  firm  of  Nucingen.  We 
have  them  still  with  us. 

E.  de  V-V. 


THE  STEP-MOTHER 

A  DRAMA  IN  FIVE  ACTS  AND  EIGHT  TABLEAUS 


Presented  for  the  first  time  at  the  Theatre  Historique, 
Paris,  May  25,  1848. 


CHARACTERS 

COMTE  DE  GRANDCHAMP,  a  retired  general  of  Napoleon. 
EUGENE  RAMEL,  a  public  prosecutor.  • 

FERDINAND  MARCANDAL,  manager  of  General  de  Grandchamp's 

cloth-works. 

DR.  VERNON,  a  physician. 
GODARD,  a  landed  proprietor. 
AN  INVESTIGATING  JUDGE. 
FELIX,  a  trusted  old  servant  of  the  General. 
CHAMPAGNE,  a  foreman  in  the  cloth-works. 
BAUDRILLON,  a  druggist. 

NAPOLEON,  son  of  the  General  by  his  second  wife. 
GERTRUDE,  second  wife  of  the  General. 
PAULINE,  a  daughter  of  the  General  by  his  first  wife. 
MARGUERITE,  Pauline's  maid. 

Gendarmes,  a  court -clerk,  a  priest  and  his  assistants. 


The  action  takes  place  in  the  Chateau  of  General  de  Grand- 
champ,  near  Louviers,  in  Normandy. 


THE  STEP-MOTHER 


FIRST  ACT 

The  stage  represents  a  well-furnished  drawing-room  on  the 
walls  of  which  hang,  in  prominent  positions,  the  portraits  of  the 
great  Napoleon  and  of  his  son,  the  King  of  Rome.  Back  of  the 
stage,  large  double  glass-doors  open  on  a  terrace  and  on  a  short 
flight  of  outside  stairs  leading  down  to  the  park  visible  in  the 
background.  A  door  leading  to  Pauline's  suite  of  rooms  is  seen 
at  the  right  of  the  spectator.  A  door  to  the  left  opens  into  the 
suites  occupied  by  the  General  and  his  wife.  On  one  side  of  the 
glass-door  there  is  a  table ;  on  the  other  side,  a  beautiful  Boule 
chiffonier.  A  flower-stand  is  placed  under  a  large  looking-glass, 
next  to  the  entrance  to  Pauline's  rooms.  Opposite  is  a  marble 
mantlepiece  with  a  beautiful  bronze  clock  and  candelabras.  At 
the  front  of  the  stage,  to  the  right,  is  a  sofa,  and  to  the  left  is 
another. 

SCENE  I 

GERTRUDE.     THE  GENERAL 

(Enter  Gertrude,  holding  flowers  she  has  just  gathered 
during  a  walk  through  the  park,  and  which  she  busies  her- 
self arranging  in  the  flower-stand.) 

GERTRUDE. — I  tell  you,  dear,  it  would  be  foolish  to 
wait  any  longer  before  finding  a  husband  for  your 
daughter.  She  is  now  twenty-two  years  old  and  has 
had  plenty  of  time  to  make  a  selection.  In  such  a 

9 


10  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

case,  parents  must  take  matters  in  charge  and  find  a 
suitable  mate.  Besides,  I  am  personally  interested  in 
the  affair. 

THE  GENERAL. HOW   IS  that? 

GERTRUDE. — A  step-mother's  position  is  always  under 
criticism.  Everybody  in  Louviers  has  been  saying, 
for  a  long  while,  that  I  was  the  one  who  prevented 
Pauline  from  marrying  earlier. 

THE  GENERAL. — These  silly  country  peoples'  tongues! 
I  wish  I  could  cut  off  a  few!  The  idea  of  attacking 
you,  Gertrude,  who  for  twelve  years  have  been  a  true 
mother  to  Pauline,  and  given  her  such  an  excellent 
education! 

GERTRUDE. — That's  the  way  of  the  world!  They 
bear  us  a  grudge  for  living  so  near  their  wretched 
little  city  and  declining  to  visit  there.  "Society"  pun- 
ishes us  for  dispensing  with  it.  Did  you  imagine  that 
our  happiness  caused  no  envy?  Even  our  doctor — 

THE  GENERAL. Vemon? 

GERTRUDE. — Yes,  Doctor  Vernon.  He  is  terribly 
envious  of  you.  He  is  furious  never  to  have  been  able 
to  inspire  any  woman  with  the  affection  I  have  for 
you.  So,  he  does  not  hesitate  saying  that  I  am  play- 
ing a  part —  The  idea  of  my  playing  a  part  for  twelve 
continuous  years !  Why,  that's  ridiculous! 

THE  GENERAL. — A  woman  could  not  deceive  anyone 
for  twelve  years  without  being  found  out —  It's  all 
foolishness —  So,  Vernon,  he  also — 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  he  is  only  joking,  you  know.  Well, 
as  I  started  to  tell  you,  Godard  is  coming  to  see  you; 
I  am  surprised  he  has  not  arrived  yet.  It  would  be 
sheer  insanity  to  refuse  such  a  wealthy  suitor.  He 
loves  Pauline  and  although,  of  course,  he  has  his  little 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  u 

defects,  and  is,  perhaps,  a  trifle  provincial  in  his  man- 
ners, he  will  make  your  daughter  quite  happy. 

THE  GENERAL. — I  leave  Pauline  entirely  free  to  choose 
her  husband. 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  you  may  feel  quite  at  rest  on  that 
score — Pauline  is  a  thoroughly,  good,  gentle  and  well- 
behaved  girl. 

THE  GENERAL. — Gentle!  Why,  she  has  my  own  tem- 
per, and  a  pretty  quick  one  it  is ! 

GERTRUDE. — Pauline !  A  quick  temper!  But  you, 
general,  are  not  quick-tempered —  You  always  do 
everything  I  please — 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  it's  because  you  are  such  an 
angel,  and  have  no  wish  I  do  not  approve  of.  By  the 
way,  Vernon  is  coming  to  dine  with  us,  after  he  is 
through  with  his  autopsy. 

GERTRUDE. — It  wasn't  necessary  for  you  to  tell  me. 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  I  am  mentioning  the  fact  only  to 
have  you  order  up  the  wines  he  prefers. 

FELIX,  entering. — Monsieur  de  Rimonville! 

THE  GENERAL. — Let  him  come  in. 

GERTRUDE,  pointing  to  Felix  to  arrange  the  flower- 
stand. — I  shall  go  to  Pauline's  room  while  you  two 
gentlemen  are  talking  business.  I  want  to  give  a  last 
look  to  her  toilet.  Young  girls,  sometimes,  do  not 
know  what  suits  them  best. 

THE  GENERAL. — If  she  does  not,  it  is  not  for  lack  of 
money  spent  on  herself.  During  the  last  eighteen 
months,  her  toilet  has  cost  double  what  it  did  before ; 
but  after  all  it  is  the  poor  girl's  only  pleasure. 

GERTRUDE. — Her  only  pleasure!  For  what  do  you 
count  then,  the  delight  of  living  in  a  family  circle  like 
ours?  If  I  had  not  the  happiness  of  being  your  wife  I 


12  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

would  like  nothing  better  than  to  be  your  daughter! 
And  I — I  will  never  leave  you !  (She  walks  a  few  steps 
toward  the  door.)  You  say,  for  the  last  eighteen 
months?  That's  strange—  Well,  now  that  I  think  of 
it,  it  is  since  then  that  she  has  begun  to  really  care 
for  jewelry,  laces  and  other  pretty  things. 

THE  GENERAL. — Well,  she  is  rich  enough,  in  her  own 
right,  to  allow  herself  those  little  fancies. 

GERTRUDE. — Of  course,  she  is  of  age.  (Aside.)  This 
love  of  dress — that's  the  smoke — but  where  is  the  fire? 
(She  leaves  the  room  through  Pauline's  door.) 


SCENE  II 

THE  GENERAL,  alone. — What  a  unique  pearl  this 
woman  is!  After  going  through  twenty-six  cam- 
paigns, receiving  eleven  wounds,  and  losing  the  angel 
she  has  replaced  in  my  heart,  truly  kind  Providence 
owed  me  this  gift  of  my  Gertrude,  if  only  to  console 
me  for  the  loss  of  my  emperor. 


SCENE   III 

GODARD.     THE  GENERAL. 

GODARD,  entering. — General! 

THE  GENERAL. — Good  morning,  Godard.  I  hope  you 
are  coming  to  spend  the  day  with  us? 

GODARD. — The  day  and  perhaps  the  week,  general, 
if  you  turn  a  favorable  ear  to  the  request  which  I 
hardly  dare  present  to  you. 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  13 

THE  GENERAL. — Fire  away!  I  know  all  about  your 
request —  My  wife  is  on  your  side —  Ah,  you  true 
Norman,  you  have  attacked  the  fortress  at  its  weak 
point. 

GODARD. — General,  you  are  an  old  soldier,  and  hate 
roundabout  ways.  You  go  ahead  as  if  you  were  on 
the  firing  line. 

THE  GENERAL. — Straight  and  at  full  speed. 

GODARD. — Well,  that  fits  me  all  right,  because  I, 
myself,  am  rather  timid — 

THE  GENERAL. — You  timid!  Then  I'll  have  to  apolo- 
gize, for  I  always  took  you  for  a  man  who  knew  his 
full  value  only  too  well — 

GODARD. — You  mean  that  I  am  conceited —  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  general,  I  want  to  marry  because  I  do 
not  know  how  to  pay  court  to  women. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — Oh,  you,  civilian.  (Aloud.) 
What !  you !  If  that's  really  so,  sir,  my  daughter  is 
not  for  you. 

GODARD. — Oh,  do  not  worry —  You  misunderstand 
me —  I  have  a  warm  heart,  general,  and  plenty  of  it ; 
I  only  want  to  be  sure  I  shall  not  be  refused. 

THE  GENERAL. — You  feel  full  of  valor  when  storm- 
ing an  unfortified  city,  is  that  it? 

GODARD. — That's  not  at  all  what  I  mean,  general; 
you  see,  you  are  already  intimidating  me  with  your 
bantering. 

THE  GENERAL. — Explain  yourself,  then. 

GODARD. — Well,  the  matter  is  that  I  understand 
nothing  about  women's  ways.  I  never  discover  in 
time  when  their  "yes"  means  "no"  and  when  their 
"no"  means  "yes. "  Besides,  when  I  love,  I  want  to  be 
loved  in  return. 


14  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — With  his  ways  he  has  little 
chance  to  be — 

GODARD. — There  are  many  men  like  me  whom  this 
skirmishing,  made  out  of  formalities  and  pretences, 
tires  to  a  supreme  degree. 

THE  GENERAL. — But  that  mock-resistance  is  the  most 
delicious  part  of  it  all — except  the  pleasure  of  the  final 
victory ! 

GODARD. — None  of  this  for  me,  please.  When  I  feel 
hungry,  I  do  not  begin  flirting  with  my  soup — 
Although  a  Norman  by  birth,  I  like  cases  quickly 
settled  and  hate  the  law's  tricks  and  delays.  Every 
day  I  see,  in  society,  fellows  who  succeed  amazingly 
well  with  women  by  telling  them,  for  instance :  "Oh, 
how  lovely  your  gown  is !  What  exquisite  taste !  No 
other  woman  can  compare  with  you" — or  words  to 
that  effect.  And  from  this  beginning  they  go  on  and 
on — and  they  reach  their  goal  all  right !  they  are  sim- 
ply prodigious,  on  my  word!  For  my  part,  I  abso- 
lutely fail  to  understand  how  a  few  empty  phrases  like 
these  may  lead  one  to  success.  I  would  get  mixed  up 
a  hundred  times  before  being  able  to  tell  a  pretty 
woman  what  love  she  inspires  me  with. 

THE  GENERAL. — Ah,  these  were  not  the  ways  of  the 
men  of  the  Empire! 

GODARD. — It's  this  very  awkwardness  that  has  ren- 
dered me  so  bold — in  appearance!  This  assumed 
audacity,  coupled  with  my  forty  thousand  a  year,  is 
accepted  as  genuine  and  helps  me  to  get  ahead.  That's 
the  reason  you  took  me  for  a  conceited  fellow.  But 
when  one  has  not  a  franc  of  mortgage  on  some  of  the 
finest  grazing  land  in  the  valley  of  Auge,  when  one 
owns  a  pretty  little  chateau  just  furnished  anew — for 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  15 

my  future  wife  will  find  the  place  supplied  to  the 
minutest  details,  including  my  late  mother's  laces  and 
diamonds ;  so  that  she  need  bring  in  nothing  but  her 
trunks — when  one  possesses  all  these  advantages, 
general,  one  may  indulge  in  almost  any  whim.  That's 
why  I  am  now  Monsieur  de  Rimonville. 

THE  GENERAL. — No,  you  are  Godard. 

GODARD. — Godard  de  Rimonville. 

THE  GENERAL. — Just  plain  Godard. 

GODARD. — General,  such  changes  are  tolerated. 

THE  GENERAL. — No,  sir;  I,  for  one,  do  not  tolerate 
that  any  man,  even  if  he  be  my  son-in-law,  should  dis- 
own the  name  of  his  father.  Yours — and  a  very  de- 
cent fellow  he  was — used  to  drive  his  cattle  himself 
from  Poissy  to  Paris  and  all  along  the  way  he  was 
known  as  Godard,  Father  Godard. 

GODARD. — He  was  a  well-considered  man. 

THE  GENERAL. — Well  considered  in  his  sphere —  But 
I  see  now  your  purpose.  Your  father's  beeves  pro- 
cured you  your  forty-thousand-a-year  fortune.  You 
count  on  another  kind  of  cattle  to  get  you  called 
Monsieur  de  Rimonville. 

GODARD. — Now,  listen,  general.  Suppose  you  ask 
Mademoiselle  Pauline's  opinion  on  the  subject.  She 
belongs  to  the  present  day.  We  are  now  in  1829  under 
King  Charles  X.  Ask  her  if  she  will  not  prefer,  when 
leaving  a  ball-room,  to  have  the  lackey  call  out,  "The 
carriage  of  Madame  de  Rimonville"  rather  than  "The 
carriage  of  Madame  Godard. ' ' 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  if  this  foolishness  amuses  my 
daughter,  she  is  welcome  to  it,  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. For  people  won't  make  fun  of  her  but  of  you, 
my  dear  Godard. 


16  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

GODARD. — De  Rimonville. 

THE  GENERAL. — Godard !  Well,  now,  to  business! 
You  are  honest,  you  are  rich,  you  are  young,  you  say 
that  you  will  not  flirt  with  other  women  and  that  my 
daughter  shall  be  queen  in  her  household —  If  it's  all 
to  be  so,  go  ahead.  Obtain  her  consent  and  you  shall 
have  mine.  But,  understand  me  clearly ;  my  daughter 
shall  marry  none  but  the  man  she  loves,  be  he  rich  or 
poor.  There  is  only  one  exception,  but  it  does  not 
concern  you.  I  had  rather  follow  her  coffin  to  the 
grave  than  to  lead  her  to  the  mayor's  office  to  marry 
the  son,  grandson,  brother,  nephew  or  cousin  to  the 
remotest  degree  of  one  of  the  four  or  five  arch-scoun- 
drels who  have  betrayed — for,  you  know,  my  soul's 
worship  belongs  to — 

GODARD. — To  Emperor  Napoleon —  Yes,  yes,  every- 
body knows  that. 

THE  GENERAL. — First  God,  then  France  or  the 
Emperor — they  are  one  to  me, — then  my  wife  and  my 
children.  Whoever  touches  my  deities,  he  is  my 
enemy;  I'd  kill  him  like  a  dog,  without  a  pang  of 
remorse.  These  are  my  ideas  on  religion,  country 
and  family.  My  catechism  is  short  but  it  is  good. 
Do  you  know  why,  in  1816,  after  their  accursed  dis- 
missal of  the  Loire  Army,  I  took  my  poor  little  orphan 
girl  in  my  arms  and  came  over  here  in  Louviers?  Do 
you  know  why  I,  a  colonel  in  the  young  Guard, 
wounded  at  Waterloo,  decided  to  turn  cloth-manufac- 
turer? 

OODARD. — I  suppose  you  did  not  want  to  serve  those 
now  in  power. 

THE  GENERAL. — I  did  not  want  to  end  my  life  under 
the  guillotine,  like  a  murderer. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  17 

GODARD. — Good  Lord!     What  do  you  mean? 

THE  GENERAL. — I  mean  that  if  I  had  met  one  of  these 
rascals,  it  would  have  been  all  up  with  him.  Even 
now,  after  fifteen  years,  my  blood  boils  in  my  veins  if 
I  happen  to  read  their  names  in  the  papers,  or  if  they 
are  mentioned  in  my  presence.  I  tell  you,  if  I  found 
myself  with  one  of  them,  nothing  could  prevent  me 
from  rushing  to  his  throat,  to  tear  him  to  pieces,  to 
throttle  him. 

GODARD.  — And  right  you  would  be,  by  Jove !  (Aside. ) 
— I'll  humor  him. 

THE  GENERAL. — Yes,  sir,  throttle  him —  And  if  my 
son-in-law  should  torment  my  darling — I  ^jould  act 
just  the  same — 

GODARD. — Ah! 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  I  do  not  want  him  to  be  led  by 
her.  A  man  must  be  king  in  his  own  household,  just 
as  I  am  here. 

GODARD,  aside. — Poor  man!  How  he  deceives  him- 
self! 

THE  GENERAL. — What  are  you  saying? 

GODARD. — I  was  saying,  general,  that  your  threat 
does  not  frighten  me.  When  one  intends  to  love  but 
one  woman,  you  may  be  sure  that  she  is  loved  in  the 
right  way ! 

THE  GENERAL. — Well  said,  my  dear  Godard.  As  to 
the  dowry — 

GODARD. Yes? 

THE  GENERAL. — My  daughter's  dowry  is  composed 
of— 

GODARD. — Is  composed  of? 

THE  GENERAL. — Of  the  fortune  of  her  mother  and  of 
the  inheritance  of  her  uncle  Boncoeur.  Both  are 


1 8  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

intact.     They  amount  to  350,000  francs  capital  and  one 
year's  interest,  for  Pauline  is  twenty-two  years  old. 
GODARD. — 367,500  francs  all  told. 

THE  GENERAL. No. 

GODARD. — HOW,  HO? 

THE  GENERAL.     It's  more  than  that. 

GODARD. — More? 

THE  GENERAL. — 4oo,ooo  francs.  (Pleased  movement  of 
Godard.)  I  will  give  the  balance!  But  from  me,  do 
not  expect  anything  more —  You  understand? 

GODARD. — I  must  say,  I  fail  to  grasp  your  meaning. 

THE  GENERAL. — Here  it  is  then.  I  idolize  the  little 
Napoleon. 

GODARD.— What!     The  Duke  of  Reichstadt? 

THE  GENERAL. — No,  my  son,  whom  they  refused  to 
register,  at  birth,  except  under  the  name  of  Leon. 
But  here  (he  strikes  his  breast)  he  is  registered  as  Napo- 
leon! So,  now,  all  I  make  and  save  is  for  him  and 
his  mother. 

GODARD,  aside. — Especially  for  the  mother,  who  is  a 
sly  one! 

THE  GENERAL. — You  know  now  how  things  stand,  and 
if  they  do  not  suit,  you'd  better  say  so  right  away. 

GODARD,  aside. — We'll  go  to  law  about  it,  all  right. 
(Aloud.)  They  are  perfectly  satisfactory  in  every 
respect,  and  if  you  wish  me  to,  I'll  assist  you  in  your 
projects. 

THE  GENERAL. — You  are  all  right,  and  you  under- 
stand better  now,  my  dear  Godard — 

GODARD. — De  Rimonville. 

THE  GENERAL. — No,  Godard ;  I  prefer  Godard — you 
understand  better  why  I,  who  have  commanded  the 
grenadiers  of  the  young  Guard,  I,  General  Comte  de 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  19 

Grandchamp,  am  now  weaving  cloth  for  our  infantry 
soldiers'  uniforms. 

GODARD. — But  it's  splendid  on  your  part,  general! 
Keep  on  saving  money,  by  all  means.  You  could  not 
think  of  leaving  your  widow  without  a  fortune. 

THE  GENERAL. — She  is  an  angel,  Godard. 

GODARD. — De  Rimonville. 

THE  GENERAL. — Godard !  An  angel  to  whom  you 
owe  the  excellent  education  of  your  future  wife.  She 
has  made  her  to  her  own  image.  Pauline  is  a  pearl,  a 
jewel;  she  never  has  been  away  from  her  father's 
roof ;  she  is  as  pure,  as  innocent  as  a  baby  in  its  cradle. 

GODARD. — General,  allow  me  to  make  a  confession; 
there  are  a  number  of  handsome  girls  in  Normandy, 
very  rich  besides,  richer  than  Mademoiselle  Pauline. — 
If  you  only  knew  how  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  these 
heiresses  have  been  after  me !  It  is  positively  indecent 
the  way  they  have  been  carrying  on !  But  I  find  it 
good  fun — I  get  myself  invited  from  chateau  to 
chateau,  I  am  made  a  great  deal  of — 

THE  GENERAL. — Conceited  again — 

GODARD. — Oh,  it  is  not  for  my  sake,  I  know!  I  am 
not  blind!  It  is  tfor  the  sake  of  my  wide  pastures, 
without  the  shadow  of  a  mortgage;  it  is  for  my 
invested  savings  and  for  my  well-known  habit  of  never 
over-stepping  my  revenues.  Now,  do  you  guess  what 
caused  me  t  >  look  up  an  alliance  with  your  family  in 
preference  t>  all  others? 

THE  GENERAL. — No;  I  must  say,  I  do  not. 

GODARD. — There  are  even  some  rich  and  influential 
would-be-fathers-in-law  who  promise  to  obtain  for 
me,  from  His  Majesty,  the  title  of  Comte  de  Rimon- 
ville, and  later,  perhaps,  a  peerage. 


ao  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

THE  GENERAL. — A  title  and  a  peerage — to  you! 

GODARD. — Yes.  indeed,  to  me. 

THE  GENERAL. — And  what  battle  did  you  win?  When 
and  how  did  you  save  your  country?  What  deed  of 
yours  would  they  want  to  illustrate  by  a  title?  I  tell 
you,  it's  pitiful — 

GODARD. — It's  pit —  (Aside.)  What  am  I  saying? 
(Aloud.)  We  do  not  have  the  same  opinion  on  the 
subject.  Finally,  do  you  wish  to  know  why  I  prefer 
your  adorable  Pauline  to  all  others? 

THE  GENERAL. — Because  you  love  her,  I  imagine — 

GODARD. — Of  course —  Of  course —  But  it  is  also 
because  there  reigns  in  this  house  such  an  atmosphere 
of  harmony,  of  peace,  of  bliss!  It  is  so  attractive  to 
enter  a  family  of  such  pure,  simple,  patriarchal  habits 
of  life !  I  am  an  observer,  general. 

THE  GENERAL. — You  mean,  you  have  an  inquisitive 
mind. 

GODARD. — An  inquisitive  mind,  general,  is  the  father 
of  observation.  I  am  fully  conversant  with  the  right 
side  and  the  seamy  side  of  the  society  of  our  district. 

THE  GENERAL. — Well,  what  if  you  are? 

GODARD. — Well,  I've  discovered  hidden  skeletons  in 
the  closets  of  our  best  families.  The  general  public 
sees  only  a  decent  exterior,  highly  respectable  mothers, 
kind  fathers,  model  uncles!  One  feels  like  accepting 
them  all  to  the  communion  table  without  the  trouble 
of  a  confession ;  one  would  almost  place  funds  in  their 
care —  Were  you  allowed  to  investigate  all  these  good 
people,  you  would  discover  enough  wickedness  to 
frighten  even  an  investigating  magistrate. 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  is  this  your  way  of  looking  at 
humanity?  For  my  part,  I  prefer  to  keep  my  illusions. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  21 

To  rummage  people's  consciences,  that's  the  duty  of 
priests  and  judges.  I  hate  those  black  gowns  and  I 
hope  I  may  die  without  having  had  anything  to  do 
with  them.  I  will  say  this,  however,  Godard;  the 
feeling  that  induces  you  to  prefer  my  family  to  any 
other,  pleases  me  more  than  the  amount  of  your  for- 
tune—  Here  is  my  hand  on  it —  You  have  my 
esteem,  and  I  am  not  prodigal  in  bestowing  it. 

GODARD. — Thanks   heartily,     General.      (Aside.)      I 
have  got  the  father-in-law  properly  nailed  down. 


SCENE    IV 

THE  PRECEDING.      PAULINE.     GERTRUDE. 

THE  GENERAL,  noticing  Pauline. — Ah,  here  you  are, 
little  one — 

GERTRUDE. — Is  she  not  lovely? 

GODARD.  — Madam — 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  excuse  me,  sir,  I  was  absorbed  in 
my  masterpiece. 

GODARD. — Mademoiselle  is  dazzling. 

GERTRUDE. — We  are  to  have  company  to  dinner, 
and,  as  I  am  not  in  any  way  the  traditional  step- 
mother, I  was  delighted  to  help  enhance  the  beauty  of 
my  daughter. 

GODARD,  aside. — They  were  expecting  me! 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  Godard. — I  will  leave  you  alone 
with  her.  Make  your  declaration.  (To  the  General.) 
My  dear,  let  us  go  to  the  gate  to  see  if  our  dear  doctor 
is  in  sight. 


22  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

THE  GENERAL. — I  am  at  your  service,  as  ever.  (To 
Pauline.)  Adieu,  darling.  (To  Godard.)  I'll  see  you 
again  in  a  moment.  (Gertrude  and  the  General  walk  as 
far  as  the  stairs  on  the  other  side  of  the  large  glass-doors, 
and  stand  there  looking  out.  From  time  to  time,  Gertrude 
is  noticed  observing  Pauline  and  Godard.  Ferdinand 
shows  his  head  at  the  door  to  Pauline's  apartment,  but,  a 
curt  sign  from  the  young  girl  causes  him  to  withdraiv'jit 
once,  nobody  else  noticing  this  brief  byplay.) 

GODARD,  in  front  of  the  stage,  aside. — Now  what  could 
I  say  that  would  be  dainty  and  delicate?  Ah,  I  have 
it —  (Aloud.}  This  is  very  beautiful  weather  we  are 
having  to-day,  Mademoiselle. 

PAULINE. — Very  beautiful,  indeed,  sir. 

GODARD. — Mademoiselle — 

PAULINE.  —  Sir? 

GODARD. — It  depends  on  you  to  make  me  find  it  a 
hundred  times  more  beautiful. 

PAULINE. — How  could  that  be,  sir? 

GODARD. — You  do  not  understand  me?  Has  not 
Madame  de  Grandchamp,  your  step-mother,  told  you 
anything  concerning  me? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  yes!  A  few  minutes  ago,  as  she  was 
dressing  me,  she  spoke  of  you  in  most  complimentary 
terms. 

GODARD. — And  you,  Mademoiselle,  do  you  believe  a 
few  of  the  kindly  things  she  said  of  me? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  every  word  of  them,  sir. 

GODARD,  sitting  in  one  of  the  arm-chairs,  aside. — It 
runs  almost  too  smoothly.  (Aloud.}  I  wonder  if  she 
committed  the  lucky  indiscretion  of  telling  you  that  I 
love  you  so  dearly  that  I  wish  for  no  greater  happiness 
than  to  see  you  the  mistress  of  Rimonville  castle? 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  23 

PAULINE. — She  said  vaguely  that  you^were  here  for  a 
purpose  that  honored  me  greatly. 

GODARD,  on  his  knees. — Mademoiselle,  I  am  insanely 
in  love  with  you.  I  prefer  you  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Blondville,  to  Mademoiselle  de  Clairville,  to  Made- 
moiselle de  Verville,  to  Mademoiselle  de  Pont  de 
Ville,  to— 

PAULINE. — Oh,  enough,  sir,  enough.  I  am  bewil- 
dered by  the  many  proofs  of  a  love  so  recently  born. 
They  amount  almost  to  a  holocaust.  (Godard  rises 
from  Ms  uncomfortable  position.)  Your  father,  sir,  was 
satisfied  with  driving  his  victims  to  the  slaughter- 
house ;  but  you,  you  seem  to  sacrifice  them  yourself — 

GODARD,  aside. — I  am  afraid  she  is  making  fun  of  me ! 
I'll  get  even  with  her,  by  and  by — 

PAULINE. — It  would  have  been  better  for  you,  per- 
haps, to  have  waited  a  little  longer,  for  I  must  con- 
fess- 

GODARD. — That  you  do  not  wish  to  marry  yet —  You 
are  happy  with  your  father  and  you  have  no  desire  to 
leave  him. 

PAULINE. — You  express  my  very  thoughts. 

GODARD.  In  such  cases,  there  are  mothers  who  say 
that  their  daughters  are  too  young,  but,  as  your  father 
stated  to  me  that  you  are  twenty-two,  I  supposed 
that  you  might  wish  to  settle  yourself  for  life. 

PAULINE. — Sir! 

GODARD. — I  know  that  you  are  the  final  arbiter  of 
your  destiny  and  of  mine,  but,  made  bold  by  the 
approval  of  your  father  and  your  second  mother,  who 
believe  you  heart-free,  may  I  beg  of  you  to  allow  me 
some  hope? 

PAULINE. — Sir,  your  intentions  concerning  me,  flat- 


24  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

tering  though  they  are,  give  you  no  right  to  pursue 
such  an  impertinent  inquiry. 

GODARD,  aside. — Is  there  a  rival  in  the  field? 
(Aloud.)  No  one,  Mademoiselle,  likes  to  give  in  with- 
out a  struggle — 

PAULINE. — If  you  persist,  sir,  I  shall  have  to  with- 
draw. 

GODARD. — Oh,  I  beg  of  you,  Mademoiselle— 
(Aside.)  That's  my  revenge  for  making  fun  of  me. 

PAULINE. — You  are  wealthy,  sir,  and  personally  well- 
endowed  by  nature;  you  are  so  highly  bred,  so  witty, 
that  you  will  have  no  trouble  securing  a  young  lady, 
both  handsomer  and  richer  than  I  am. 

GODARD. — But,  Mademoiselle,  when  one  is  in  love — 

PAULINE. — Well,  sir,  you  have  said  it. 

GODARD,  aside. — She  is  in  love  with  some  one  else — 
I'll  stay  and  find  out  who  he  is —  (Aloud.)  Made- 
moiselle, for  the  sake  of  my  wounded  pride,  will  you 
permit  me  to  remain  here  a  few  days? 

PAULINE. — My  father,  sir,  is  the  proper  person  to 
answer  your  request. 

GERTRUDE,  coming  fonuard  and  speaking  to  Godard. — 
Well,  how  did  you  fare? 

GODARD. — Refused  point  blank,  harshly  and  without 
any  future  hope.  Her  heart  is  already  taken. 

GERTRUDE,  to  Godard. — What!  Her  heart  taken! 
A  child  I  have  brought  up !  Why,  I  should  know  all 
about  it.  Besides,  nobody  comes  here  who —  (Aside.) 
This  man  arouses  a  suspicion  that  pierces  me  like  the 
deadly  stab  of  a  poniard.  'To  Godard.)  Why  did  you 
not  ask  her? 

GODARD. — Ask  her!  At  the  first  jealous  insinuation 
of  mine  she  flew  into  a  tantrum. 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  25 

GERTRUDE. — Well,  then,  I  will  question  her  myself. 

THE  GENERAL,  coming  up  from  the  glass-door. — Here  is 
the  doctor —  At  last  we  shall  hear  the  truth  concern- 
ing the  death  of  Champagne's  wife. 


SCENE   V 

THE  PRECEDING.     DOCTOR  VERNON. 

THE  GENERAL. — Well,  what  news? 

VERNON. — I  knew  how  it  was,  all  the  time.  Ladies! 
(He  lows  to  them.)  As  a  general  rule,  when  a  man  is 
in  the  habit  of  beating  his  wife,  he  never  poisons  her. 
He  would  lose  too  much.  He  grows  attached  to  his 
victim. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  Godard. — Charming! 

GOD  ARD.  — Charming ! 

THE  GENERAL,  to  the  Doctor,  introducing  Godard. — 
Monsieur  Godard. 

GODARD. — De  Rimonville. 

VERNON,  he  looks  at  Godard,  wipes  his  nose  and  pro- 
ceeds with  his  narrative. — If  he  kill  her,  it's  all  a  mis- 
take ;  he  happened  to  hit  too  hard.  And  then,  he  is  in 
despair;  while,  in  this  case,  poor  Champagne  is  frankly 
delighted  to  have  become  a  widower  by  natural  means. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  wife  died  of  Asiatic  cholera. 
I  am  rather  interested  in  the  case,  because  it  is  a  very 
rare  one  in  our  climate.  I  have  not  met  with  Asiatic 
cholera  since  the  Egyptian  campaign.  If  they  had 
called  me  in  time  I  might  have  saved  her. 

GERTRUDE. — How  pleased  I  am  with  your  conclu- 
sions, doctor !  A  crime  committed  in  our  works — that 


26  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

have  been  so  free  of  any  kind  of  scandal  for  over 
twelve  years — would  have  chilled  me  to  the  marrow. 

THE  GENERAL. — This  affair  is  all  due  to  wicked  gos- 
siping. I  trust  you  are  absolutely  sure  of  your  ground, 
Vernon? 

VERNON. — Of  course  I  am!  What  a  question  to  ask 
of  a  retired  chief -surgeon,  who  has  had  twelve  French 
armies  under  his  care,  from  1793  to  1815;  who  has 
practiced  his  art  in  Germany,  Spain,  Italy,  Russia, 
Poland,  Egypt — a  genuine  cosmopolitan  doctor — 

THE  GENERAL,  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder. — Ah,  you 
big  humbug,  you —  (To  the  others.)  He  has  killed 
more  people  in  all  these  countries  than  I  have. 

GODARD. — May  I  ask  what  the  trouble  was? 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  people  hereabouts,  were  saying 
that  Champagne,  our  foreman,  had  poisoned  his  wife. 

VERNON. — Unfortunately  for  him,  the  day  before  she 
was  taken  ill,  the  couple  had  a  rather  noisy  quarrel, 
out  of  which  they  seem  to  have  come  about  even. 
Ah,  these  two  did  not  imitate  their  master's  example — 

GODARD. — And  yet  such  happiness  as  we  witness 
here  ought  to  prove  contagious.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  true,  the  perfection  we  admire  in  the  countess  is 
most  rare. 

GERTRUDE. — Where  is  the  merit  in  loving  such  an 
excellent  husband,  and  a  daughter  like  this  one? 

THE  GENERAL. — Now  stop,  Gertrude —  These  things 
ought  not  to  be  told  before  people. 

VERNON,  aside. — It's  the  way  they  have  to  be  told  if 
you  want  people  to  believe  them. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  Vernon. — What  are  you  muttering 
now? 

VERNON. — I  say  that  I  am  sixty -seven,   that  I  am 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  27 

your  junior,  and  that  I  should  be  delighted  to  be  loved 
in  this  wise.  (Aside.)  I  should  have  to  be  sure 
though  that  it  was  the  real  article. 

THE  GENERAL. — You  envious  f ellow !  (To  his  wife.} 
Dear  child,  though  I  have  not  the  power  of  God  when 
I  bless  you,  yet  I  believe  he  has  granted  it  to  me  to 
love  you  the  better. 

VERNON. — My  dear  man,  you  forget  that  I  am  a  doc- 
tor. What  you  say  to  Madame  sounds  like  the  refrain 
of  a  love  song. 

GERTRUDE. — There  are  love  songs,  doctor,  that  are 
pretty  true  to  life. 

THE  GENERAL. — Doctor,  if  you  continue  teasing  my 
wife  in  this  manner,  we  shall  quarrel.  A  mere  doubt 
on  the  subject,  I  consider  an  insult. 

VERNON,  aside. — Of  course,  he  does!  (To  the  Gen- 
eral.) Oh,  I  only  meant  that  with  this  God-given 
power  of  yours  you  have  loved  so  many  women  in 
your  life,  that  I,  a  medical  man,  am  delighted  to 
behold  you  such  a  good  Christian  at  seventy  years 
old.  (While  Vernon  speaks,  Gertrude  walks  slowly  to 
the  sofa  on  which  the  doctor  is  sitting.) 

THE  GENERAL. — Hush !  Don't  you  know  that  the 
last  passions,  my  friend,  are  the  strongest? 

VERNON. — You  are  right.  In  youth  we  love  with  our 
whole  strength  which  goes  ebbing  away;  in  old  age, 
we  love  with  our  whole  weakness,  which  goes  increas- 
ing, increasing. 

THE  GENERAL.  —  Disagreeable  philosopher!  (He 
ivalks  a  few  steps  toward  the  glass-door.) 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  Vernon. — Why  do  you,  otherwise 
so  kind,  endeavor  to  cast  doubts  into  Monsieur  de 
Grandch amp's  mind?  You  know  him  to  be  jealous 


28  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

enough  to  kill  any  one  on  a  mere  suspicion.  I  respect 
so  much  his  feelings  in  that  regard  that  my  only  call- 
ers now  are  you,  the  mayor  and  the  rector  of  the 
parish.  Do  you  wish  me  to  give  up  your  society, 
which  is  so  pleasant  to  us  all?  Ah,  here  comes  Napo- 
leon. 

VERNON,  aside. — This  is  a  plain  enough  declaration 
of  war.  She  has  sent  away  everybody  else,  now 
comes  my  turn. 

GODARD. — Doctor,  you,  who  almost  belong  to  this 
house,  won't  you  tell  me  what  you  think  of  Made- 
moiselle Pauline?  ( The  doctor  rises  from  his  seat,  stares 
at.  Godard,  then  bloios  his  nose  and  walks  away.  First 
dinner  bell.) 


SCENE    VI 

THE  PRECEDING.     NAPOLEON.     FELIX. 

NAPOLEON,  coming  in  on  a  run. — Papa,  papa,  didn't 
you  allow  me  to  ride  Coco? 

THE  GENERAL. — Certainly  I  did. 

NAPOLEON,  to  Felix. — Now,  you  see! 

GERTRUDEnmj0?w</  her  son's  brow. — How  warm  he  is! 

THE  GENERAL. — It  was  under  condition  that  some- 
body should  escort  you. 

FELIX. — Now,  you  hear,  Master  Napoleon,  I  was 
right.  General,  the  little  scamp  wanted  to  ride  away 
all  alone  on  his  pony. 

NAPOLEON. — He  fears  for  me  all  the  time;  I'm  not 
afraid  of  anything.  (Felix  goes  out.  Second  dinner 
bell.) 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  29 

THE  GENERAL. — Come  and  kiss  me  for  saying  that. 
Here  is  a  youngster  who  is  near  kin  to  the  young 
Guard. 

VERNON,  looking  at  Gertrude. — How  much  like  his 
father ! 

GERTRUDE,  like  a  flash. — Morally,  he  is  just  like  his 
father,  but  he  looks  like  me. 

FELIX,  from  the  door. — Madame,  dinner  is  served. 

GERTRUDE. — By  the  way,  where  is  Ferdinand?  He, 
always  so  punctual.  Run  out,  Napoleon,  and  see  if 
he  is  not  on  the  road  leading  to  the  factory.  Tell  him 
to  hurry  up,  as  the  dinner  bell  has  been  rung  twice 
already. 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  we  do  not  need  to  wait  for 
Ferdinand — Godard,  offer  your  arm  to  my  daughter. 
( Vernon  steps  forward  and  offers  his  arm  to  Gertrude. ) 
Oh,  excuse  me,  Vernon —  Do  you  not  know,  by 
this  time,  that  no  one  but  myself  ever  takes  my  wife's 
arm? 

VERNON,  aside. — Decidedly,  he  is  incurable! 

NAPOLEON,  running  back  through  the  glass-door. — I 
have  just  seen  Ferdinand  coming  up  the  avenue. 

VERNON. — Give  me  your  paw,  tyrant! 

NAPOLEON. — I'm  a  tyrant,  am  I?  Let  me  drive  you 
then —  (He  forces  the  doctor  to  turn  around  two  or  three 
times.  They  all  leave  the  room,  chatting  ivitli  animation.} 

SCENE   VII 

FERDINAND,  comes  out  with  great  precaution  from 
Pauline's  room. — The  boy  just  saved  me  by  discover- 
ing me  on  the  avenue,  by  I  do  not  know  what  hal- 
lucination. One  more  such  imprudence  and  we  are 


30  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

lost.  It  is  time  to  get  out  of  this  situation,  at  any 
cost.  Pauline  has  been  asked  in  marriage  and  has 
had  to  refuse  Godard.  The  General  and  especially 
Gertrude  will  insist  on  being  told  the  motive  of 
this  refusal !  Well,  now  I  must  go  over  to  the  outside 
stairs  so  that  it  may  look  as  if  I  were  entering  the 
house  through  the  park.  If  only  I  am  not  seen  from 
the  dining-room —  (As  he  reaches  the  glass-door  he 
meets  Ramel  entering.) 


SCENE   VIII 

FERDINAND.     RAMEL. 

RAMEL. — You  here,  Marcandal ! 

FERDINAND. — Hush !  Hush !  Never  pronounce  that 
name  in  this  house !  If  the  General  heard  me  called 
Marcandal,  if  he  were  informed  that  it  is  my  name, 
he  would  shoot  me  down  like  a  mad  dog ! 

RAMEL. — And  why  should  he? 

FERDINAND. — Because  I  am  General  Marcandal's 
son. 

RAMEL. — A  general  to  whom  the  Bourbon  King 
partly  owed  his  second  return. 

FERDINAND. — In  General  de  Grandchamp's  eyes  to 
have  abandoned  Napoleon  to  serve  the  Bourbons  is  to 
have  betrayed  France.  Alas,  this  was  also  my  poor 
father's  opinion,  for  he  died  of  grief.  So,  do  not  for- 
get to  call  me  Ferdinand  Charny;  that's  my  mother's 
name. 

RAMEL. — But  what  are  you  doing  here  anyway? 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  31 

FERDINAND. — I  am  the  manager,  the  cashier,  the 
general  factotum  of  the  cloth-works. 

RAMEL. — What!     Out  of  necessity? 

FERDINAND. — Yes,  indeed,  out  of  necessity.  My 
father  went  through  all  the  money  he  ever  had, 
including  my  mother's  private  fortune.  She  is  living 
now  in  a  small  place  in  Brittany  on  her  pension  as  the 
widow  of  a  lieutenant-general. 

RAMEL. — What!  Your  father,  who  occupied  such  a 
brilliant  position  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Royal 
Guard,  did  not  leave  his  son  a  franc  or  even  a  pro- 
tector? 

FERDINAND. — Has  ever  a  man  betrayed  his  party 
without  some  secret  reason? 

RAMEL. — I  think  we  had  better  drop  the  subject — 

FERDINAND. — My  father  was  an  inveterate  gambler — 
That  was  his  reason  for  being  so  indulgent  for  my 
wild  ways —  But  you,  tell  me,  what  is  bringing  you  here? 

RAMEL. — For  two  weeks  now,  I  have  occupied  the 
office  of  the  King's  Public  Prosecutor  for  the  Louviers 
district. 

FERDINAND. — I  thought  I  heard  of —  Was  not  another 
name  given  as  that  of  the  appointee? 

RAMEL. — The  name  of  De  La  Grandiere,  I  suppose? 

FERDINAND. That's  it. 

RAMEL. — Before  marrying  Mademoiselle  de  Boude- 
ville,  I  had  to  obtain  the  official  permission  of  chang- 
ing my  name  and  adding  that  of  my  mother — just  as 
you  did,  yourself.  The  Boudeville  family  are  influ- 
ential people  and,  within  a  year,  I  expect  to  be 
appointed  assistant  attorney-general  to  the  Court  of 
Appeals  of  Rouen.  That  will  be  a  stepping-stone  to 
a  Paris  position. 


32  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

FERDINAND. — And  what  brings  you  to  our  peaceful 
cloth  factory? 

RAMEL. — An  investigation  concerning  a  poisoning 
case.  A  first-class  start  for  me.  (Enter  Felix.) 

FELIX. — Oh,  Monsieur  Ferdinand,  Madame  is  so 
anxious  about  you — 

FERDINAND. — Please  tell  her  that  I  am  engaged. 
(Exit  Felix.)  My  dear  Eugene,  in  case  the  General, 
who  is  very  inquisitive,  like  most  retired  soldiers  with 
practically  nothing  to  keep  their  minds  busy,  if  the  Gen- 
eral ask  you  where  we  met  just  now,  tell  him,  please, 
that  we  came  upon  each  other  in  the  main  avenue 
leading  to  the  chateau.  It's  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance for  me —  Now,  about  the  business  that  brings 
you  here.  It's  concerning  the  late  wife  of  our  fore- 
man Champagne  that  you  are  gathering  information, 
I  suppose.  Well,  the  poor  fellow  is  as  innocent  as  a 
new-born  babe. 

RAMEL. — You  believe  so  do  you?  Well,  public  pros- 
ecutors are  paid  to  be  incredulous.  I  see  that  you 
have  remained  what  you  were  in  the  years  of  our  life 
together,  the  most  noble-hearted,  enthusiastic  fellow 
in  the  world;  in  a  word,  a  poet!  A  poet  who  lives  his 
poetry  instead  of  writing  it  down;  who  believes  in 
everything  that  is  good  and  beautiful!  Ah,  by  the 
way,  what  has  become  of  the  angel  of  your  youthful 
dreams,  of  Gertrude? 

FERDINAND. — Hush !  I  believe  it  is  not  only  the 
Minister  of  Justice  but  heaven  itself  that  has  sent  you 
to  Louviers  just  at  the  time  when  I  am  sorely  in  need 
of  a  friend  in  the  awful  crisis  I  am  facing.  Come 
nearer,  Eugene,  and  listen.  I  am  addressing  now  my 
college  chum,  the  confidant  of  early  days;  I  trust  you 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  33 

• 

will  never  act  the  King's  Prosecutor  toward  me;  am  I 
right?  The  nature  of  my  avowal  will  show  you  that 
it  ought  not  to  be  whispered  to  any  one  but  a  father- 
confessor  ! 

RAMEL. — Do  you  mean  that  there  is  something  crim- 
inal in  your  case? 

FERDINAND. — Indeed  not,  or  only  such  violations 
of  the  code  as  most  judges  would  delight  in  com- 
mitting. 

RAMEL. — If  it  were  otherwise  I  could  not  listen  to 
you,  or,  if  I  did  listen,  I  should  have  to  ask  for  a 
change  of  district — 

FERDINAND. — Ah,  I  see  that  you  are  still  my  good 
friend,  my  best  friend —  Well,  now —  For  over  three 
years,  I  have  been  deeply  in  love  with  Mademoiselle 
de  Grandchamp  and  she — 

RAMEL. — Oh,  I  understand —  You  are  acting  Romeo 
and  Juliet  over  again,  here  in  prosaic  Normandy! 

FERDINAND. — With  this  difference,  that  the  heredi- 
tary hatred  that  kept  the  two  lovers  apart  is  but  a 
trifle  compared  with  the  horror  Monsieur  de  Grand- 
champ  would  harbor  against  the  son  of  Marcandal,  the 
traitor. 

RAMEL. — But  will  not  Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp 
be  free  to  act  according  to  her  own  sweet  will  within 
three  years?  By  the  Boudevilles,  I  have  been  told 
that  she  is  quite  wealthy  in  her  own  right.  All  you 
will  have  to  do  will  be  to  get  married  in  Switzerland, 
unless  you  prefer  to  obtain  the  General's  consent  by 
legal  means. 

FERDINAND. — Should  I  need  to  consult  you  about 
such  a  simple  and  commonplace  solution  to  our  diffi- 
culties? 


34  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

RAMEL.— Oh,  I  think  I  grasp  the  situation?  You 
married  your  Gertrude—  Who  has  turned  out  as  most 
angels  do — after  we  marry  them ! 

FERDINAND. — Things  are  a  thousand  times  worse,  my 
dear  Eugene!  Gertrude  is  now — Madame  de  Grand- 
champ! 

RAMEL.— I  declare —  And  how  did  you  get  your- 
self  into  such  a  hornets'  nest? 

FERDINAND. — As  do  all  those  who  get  into  hornets' 
nests — by  looking  after  honey. 

RAMEL. — I  must  admit  that  the  situation  is  most 
serious  and  I  want  you  to  hide  nothing  from  me. 

FERDINAND. — Originally,  Mademoiselle  Gertrude  de 
Meilhac,  a  pupil  of  the  St.  Denis  Academy  for  the 
daughters  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  must  have  been 
attracted  to  me  solely  out  of  ambition.  Believing  me 
a  rich  man,  she  did  everything  to  captivate  me  and 
induce  me  to  make  of  her  my  wife. 

RAMEL. — That's  the  invariable  method  of  all  schem- 
ing orphan  girls. 

FERDINAND. — But  the  extraordinary  passion  that  has 
grown  from  such  a  beginning !  ;15  It  has  truly  become, 
for  Gertrude,  the  one,  overpowering  love  that  domi- 
nates her  whole  life  and  devours  it.  When,  at  the 
end  of  the  year  1816,  she  saw  me  financially  ruined, 
knowing  me,  as  you  did,  to  be  but  a  poet,  a  spoiled 
child,  fond  of  art,  luxury  and  an  easy,  soft  life,  she 
conceived — without  telling  me  a  word  about  it — an 
infamous  and  sublime  scheme,  such  as  ardent  and 
opposed  passions  beget  in  the  brains  of  women,  who, 
in  the  interest  of  their  love,  will  act  just  as  a  despot 
does  for  the  sake  of  retaining  his  power  in  his  hands — 
For,  in  her  eyes,  love  is  the  supreme  law — 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  35 

RAMEL. — The  facts — the  facts,  my  dear  man —  You 
are  pleading  a  case  now,  forgetting  that  I  am  a  lawyer 
myself — 

FERDINAND. — While  I  was  establishing  my  mother  in 
Brittany,  Gertrude  met  General  de  Grandchamp,  who 
was  looking  for  a  governess  for  his  daughter.  All 
she  saw  in  the  veteran  soldier,  then  fifty-eight  years 
old  and  bearing  the  marks  of  severe  wounds,  was  his 
money  bags.  She  imagined  that,  in  a  very  short  time, 
she  would  be  a  widow,  and  a  rich  one  at  that,  ready 
to  return  to  her  love  and  to  her  slave.  She  persuaded 
herself  that  this  marriage  would  be  but  a  brief  night- 
mare followed  by  the  most  delightful  awaking.  And 
this  nightmare  has  now  lasted  twelve  years!  But  you 
know  how  women  reason ! 

RAMEL. — They  have  a  logic  all  their  own. 

FERDINAND. — Gertrude's  exacting  jealousy  is  simply 
terrible.  She  wants  to  be  compensated  by  her  lover's 
fidelity  for  her  own  unfaithfulness  toward  her  hus- 
band; and,  as  she  suffered  martyrdom — so  she  said — 
away  from  me,  she  insisted — 

RAMEL. — That  you  should  come  and  live  under  the 
same  roof  so  as  to  be  sure  to  keep  you  all  to  herself. 

FERDINAND. — She  succeeded  so  far  as  to  induce  me  to 
come  and  stay  in  this  neighborhood.  For  three  years 
now,  I  have  occupied  a  cottage  near  the  factory. 
But,  if  I  did  not  leave  at  the  end  of  the  first  week,  it 
was  solely  because  the  very  day  after  my  arrival,  I 
realized  that  I  could  never  live  without  Pauline. 

RAMEL. — As  a  magistrate,  I  will  admit  that  the 
existence  of  this  love  renders  your  present  position 
here  less  ugly  than  it  would  be  otherwise. 

FERDINAND. — My  position !     Why,  my  dear  fellow,  it 


36  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

has  simply  grown  unbearable  on  account  of  the 
peculiarities  of  the  three  human  beings  with  whom  I 
am  in  daily  contact.  Pauline  is,  at  times,  recklessly 
bold,  like  all  pure-minded  girls  whose  love  is  abso- 
lutely ideal  and  who  dream  of  nothing  wrong  when 
the  man  they  love  is  their  pledged  husband.  On  the 
other  hand,  Gertrude's  mind  is  sharply  penetrating, 
and  we  are  saved  from  her  perspicacity  only  through 
the  constant  terror  Pauline  is  kept  in  lest  her  father 
should  discover  my  identity.  That  gives  her  the 
strength  to  dissemble !  But  now,  Pauline  has  had  to 
refuse  Godard,  and — 

RAMEL. — I  know  Godard —  Under  his  dull  manner, 
he  hides  one  of  the  shrewdest,  most  inquisitive  minds 
in  this  vicinity.  He  is  here  now,  is  he? 

FERDINAND. — He  is  seated  at  the  General's  dinner 
table. 

RAMEL. — You  had  better  beware  of  him. 

FERDINAND. — I'll  do  so.  Now  if  either  of  these 
women,  neither  of  whom  loves  the  other  any  too 
much,  should  discover  that  they  are  rivals,  one  may 
kill  the  other.  I  could  not  tell  which :  one,  urged  by 
the  strength  of  her  innocence,  of  her  legitimate  pas- 
sion ;  the  other,  rendered  furious  by  the  loss  of  what 
she  believes  the  hard-earned  fruit  of  so  much  deceit, 
sacrifice,  crime  even — 

RAMEL. — You  actually  frighten  me,  me  a  public 
prosecutor —  Ah,  how  true  it  is  that  women  often 
cost  us  more  than  they  are  worth ! 

NAPOLEON,  running  in. — Papa  and  mamma  are 
impatient  after  you —  They  say  you  must  quit  busi- 
ness, and  Vernon  is  talking  about  his  digestion — 

FERDINAND. — Little  scamp,  did  you  come  to  listen? 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  37 

NAPOLEON. — Mamma  whispered  to  me  to  run  out  and 
find  what  you  were  doing. 

FERDINAND. — Well,  go  back,  quick,  little  man,  I  am 
coming.  (Aside  to  Ramel.)  You  see,  she  has  trained 
that  child  to  be  an  innocent  spy.  (Exit  Napoleon.} 

RAMEL. — Is  this  the  General's  child? 

FERDINAND. It  is.  » 

RAMEL. — Is  he  not  twelve  years  old? 

FERDINAND. Just  about. 

RAMEL. — Have  you  nothing  more  to  confide  to  me, 
Ferdinand? 

FERDINAND. — Nothing;  I  have  said  enough. 

RAMEL. — In  that  case,  you  had  better  attend  to  your 
dinner.  No  need  to  mention  my  arrival  or  my  office. 
Let  them  take  their  meal  in  peace.  Go,  my  friend,  go. 

SCENE    IX 

RAMEL,  alone. — Poor  fellow,  I  pity  him!  Well,  if 
all  young  men  had  had  my  legal  experience  of  the  last 
seven  years,  they  would  be  convinced  that  marriage 
has  to  be  accepted  as  the  only  safe  romance  in  one's 
life —  But,  then,  if  passion  were  wise  it  would  be 
another  name  for  virtue ! 

(Acx  CURTAIN.) 


SECOND   ACT 

(The  stage  is  set  as  in  the  first  act.) 

SCENE    I 

RAMEL.     MARGUERITE,  later  FELIX. 

(Ramel  is  sunk  in  meditation  and  so  seated  on  the  sofa 
as  not  to  be  seen  at  first.  Marguerite  enters,  carrying 
candlesticks  and  packs  of  playing  cards.  Between  this 
act  and  the  preceding,  night  has  set  in.) 

r 

MARGUERITE. — Four  packs  of  cards,  that's  enough, 
even  if  the  rector,  the  mayor  and  his  assistant  should 
drop  in.  (Felix  walks  in  and  begins  lighting  the  lamps 
and  the  candles  in  the  candelabras.)  I'd  make  a  bet  that 
my  poor  darling  Pauline  is  not  to  be  married  even 
this  time —  Ah,  if  her  sainted  mother  could  see  of 
what  little  account  her  precious  child  is  in  this  house, 
she  would  weep  over  it  in  her  grave!  If  I  stay  here, 
it  is  solely  to  console  the  dear  girl,  to  serve  her — 

FELIX,  aside. — What  is  the  old  crone  talking  about? 
(Aloud.)  Against  whom  are  you  venting  your  grudge 
just  now,  Marguerite?  I'll  wager  it's  against  Madame? 

MARGUERITE. — No,  it  is  against  Monsieur. 
.    FELIX. — The  General!     Oh!     You  may  talk  all  you 
please —     That  man  is  a  saint. 

MARGUERITE. — A  stone  saint,  then,  for  he  is  blind. 

FELIX. — You  mean  blinded. 

38 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  39 

MARGUERITE. — Ah,  you  have  found  the  right  word 
for  it,  you  have,  indeed. 

FELIX. — The  General  has  but  one  weakness,  he  is 
jealous. 

MARGUERITE. — And  hot-tempered,  too. 

FELIX. — Yes,  hot-tempered;  but  it's  all  the  same 
thing.  At  the  first  suspicion,  he  strikes.  That's  the 
way  he  killed  two  men  already — on  the  spot.  By  the 
name  of  all  that's  sacred,  the  only  way  to  deal  with 
such  a  man  is  to  smother  him  with  coddlings,  and 
that's  just  what  Madame  is  doing.  Nothing  could  be 
plainer.  And  with  those  clever  ways  of  hers,  she  has 
done  as  they  do  with  balky  horses :  she  has  put  blink- 
ers on  him;  he  can't  see  either  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left.  She  just  needs  to  say:  "My  dear,  look  straight 
before  you;"  that's  all  there  is  about  it. 

MARGUERITE. — So  you  think,  as  I  do,  that  a  woman 
of  thirty-two  is  not  in  love  with  a  man  of  seventy 
without  a  secret  scheme  of  some  sort.  Depend  upon 
it — she  has  her  plan. 

RAMEL,  aside. — Oh,  our  servants!  Spies  paid  out 
of  our  own  pocket. 

FELIX. — What  scheme  could  she  have?  She  never 
steps  out  of  the  grounds,  and  nobody  calls. 

MARGUERITE. — She  would  shave  an  egg.  Do  you 
know  why  she  has  taken  from  me  the  housekeeping 
keys? 

FELIX. — Oh,  I  suppose  she  is  feathering  her  nest. 

MARGUERITE. — Indeed  she  is,  and  it  has  gone  on  for 
the  last  twelve  years  with  Mademoiselle's  income  and 
the  profits  of  the  factory.  That's  the  reason  she  is  for- 
ever delaying  my  dear  child's  marrying!  For  prop- 
erty has  to  be  surrendered  when  a  husband  steps  in. 


40  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

FELIX. — That's  the  law. 

MARGUERITE. — I'd  pardon  her  everything  if  only  she 
made  Mademoiselle  happy;  but,  all  the  time  I  catch 
my  darling  a-crying,  and,  when  I  ask  her  what  is  the 
matter,  she  just  answers  me:  "Nothing's  the  matter, 
my  good  Marguerite. "  (Exit  Felix.)  Let  me  see  now, 
is  everything  all  right?  Yes — here  are  the  playing 
tables,  the  candles,  the  cards —  Ah,  I  must  arrange 
Monsieur's  cushions  on  the  sofa.  (She  walks  to  it  and 
for  the  first  time  sees  Ramel.)  Lord  in  heaven!  A 
stranger ! 

RAMEL. — Have  no  fear,  Marguerite. 

MARGUERITE. — Has  Monsieur  heard  it  all? 

RAMEL. — Never  mind  if  I  have.  I  am  discreet  by 
profession :  I  am  the  King's  Public  Prosecutor. 

MARGUERITE.  — Oh  ! 


SCENE   II 

THE  PRECEDING.     PAULINE.     GODARD.     VERNON. 

NAPOLEON.     FERDINAND.     THE  GENERAL. 

GERTRUDE. 

(As  soon  as  Gertrude  enters  and  notices  Marguerite 
arranging  the  cushions  for  the  General^  s  favorite  seat  on 
the  so/a,  she  rushes  to  her  and  snatches  a  cushion  out  of 
the  old  woman's  hands.) 

GERTRUDE. — Marguerite,  don't  you  know  that  you 
pain  me  by  not  allowing  me  to  attend  myself  to  every- 
thing that  concerns  Monsieur's  comfort?  Besides,  no 
one  but  me  knows  how  to  fix  his  cushions  right. 

MARGUERITE,  aside  to  Pauline. — What  nonsense ! 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  41 

GODARD. — I  declare!    but  we  have  here  the  King's 
Public  Prosecutor  in  person ! 
THE  GENERAL. — The  Public  Prosecutor  in  my  house! 

GERTRUDE. He! 

THE  GENERAL. — May  I  inquire,  sir,  the  reason  that 
brings  you  here? 

RAMEL. — I  had  requested  my  friend,  Monsieur  Ferdi- 
nand Mar —  (Quick  gesture  of  Ferdinand,  while  both 
women  cannot  restrain  a  slight  movement.) 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — It  is  his  friend,  Eugene  Ramel. 

RAMEL. — Ferdinand  de  Charny,  whom  I  informed  of 
the  object  of  my  call,  not  to  make  you  acquainted  with 
it  until  you  had  finished  a  peaceful  dinner. 

THE  GENERAL. — Ferdinand  is  your  friend,  sir? 

RAMEL. — My  childhood's  friend.  We  met  a  few 
minutes  ago  in  your,  avenue.  After  eight  years' 
separation  one  has  so  much  to  say  to  each  other  that 
his  being  late  for  dinner  is  entirely  my  fault. 

THE  GENERAL. — And  now,  sir,  may  I  ask  you  again 
to  what  we'owe  your  presence  here? 

RAMEL. — You  owe  it  to  your  foreman  Jean  Nicot, 
nicknamed  Champagne,  who  is  accused  of  a  crime. 

GERTRUDE. — But,  sir,  our  friend  here,  Doctor  Ver- 
non,  acknowledges  that  Champagne's  wife  died  a 
natural  death. 

VERNON. — Indeed  she  did.  She  died  of  Asiatic 
cholera,  sir. 

RAMEL. — The  Public  Prosecutor's  office,  sir,  only 
trusts  its  own  experts  and  draws  its  own  conclusions. 
You  were  wrong  to  proceed  with  your  examination  in 
our  absence. 

FELIX. — Shall  I  bring  in  the  coffee,  Madame? 

GERTRUDE. — Not  yet.     (Aside.)     How  changed   the 


42  THE    STEP-MOTHER 

man  is!  Since  he  jhas  assumed  the  Public  Prosecu- 
tor's office  I  scarcely  recognize  him —  He  makes  me 
feel  cold  all  over — 

THE  GENERAL. — But,  sir,  even  the  pretended  crime 
committed  by  Champagne,  an  old  soldier,  for  whom  I 
will  gladly  furnish  bail,  does  not  explain  your  presence 
here. 

RAMEL. — The  approaching  arrival  of  the  Investigat- 
ing Judge  will  make  matters  clear  to  you. 

THE  GENERAL. — In  the  meantime,  will  you  please 
take  a  seat? 

FERDINAND,  aside  to  Ramel,  pointing  to  Pauline. — 
Here  she  is ! 

RAMEL. — One  would  face  death  for  the  sake  of  such 
an  adorable  creature. 

GERTRUDE,  to  Ramel^  quickly  and  low. — We  do  not 
know  each  other?  You  never  saw  me?  Have  pity  on 
me!  Have  pity  on  him! 

RAMEL. — You  may  count  upon  my  discretion. 

THE  GENERAL,  who  7ias  noticed  Ramel  and  Gertrude 
talking  together. — Is  my  wife  of  any  use  in  the  investi- 
gation of  this  case? 

RAMEL. — She  is,  General,  and  it  is  just  because  I 
wished  her  to  be  informed  of  what  is  expected  of  her 
that  I  came  here  to-day. 

THE  GENERAL. — My  wife  mixed  in  this  affair!  It's 
truly  going  too  far — 

VERNON. — Do  not  get  excited,  my  friend. 

FELIX,  from  the  door. — His  Honor  the  Investigating 
Judge. 

THE  GENERAL. — Let  him  come  in. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  43 


SCENE    III 

THE  PRECEDING.     THE  INVESTIGATING  JUDGE.     CHAM- 
PAGNE.    BAUDRILLON.     A  GENDARME  who  lias 
Champagne  in  his  custody. 

THE  JUDGE,  bowing  as  he  enters. — Monsieur  the  Public 
Prosecutor,  I  beg  leave  to  introduce  to  you  Monsieur 
Baudrillon,  the  druggist. 

RAMEL. — Monsieur  Baudrillon  has  not  seen  the 
accused  man? 

THE  JUDGE. — No,  sir,  the  accused  came  in  with  me 
in  charge  of  this  gendarme  who  has  not  allowed  him 
to  communicate  with  anybody. 

RAMEL. — Now,  we  shall  know  the  truth.  Let  Mon- 
sieur Baudrillon  come  to  the  front;  you  also,  Cham- 
pagne. Monsieur  Baudrillon,  you  recognize  this  man 
as  having  bought  of  you  some  arsenic,  two  days  ago? 

BAUDRILLON. — I  recognize  him. 

CHAMPAGNE. — Did  I  not  tell  you,  Monsieur  Baudril- 
lon, that  the  stuff  was  intended  for  mice  that  were 
eating  up  everything  round  the  house  here,  and  that 
Madame  had  sent  me  for  it? 

THE  JUDGE. — You  hear  what  he  says,  Madame?  He 
claims  that  you,  yourself,  sent  him  to  purchase  the 
drug  and  that  he  delivered  the  package  to  you  just  as 
he  received  it  from  Monsieur  Baudrillon. 

GERTRUDE. — All  this  is  the  truth,  sir. 

RAMEL. — Have  you,  Madame,  made  any  use  of  this 
arsenic? 

GERTRUDE. No,   Sir. 

JUDGE. — In  that  case,  you  will  be  able  to  produce 
the  package  delivered  by  Monsieur  Baudrillon.  This 


44  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

parcel  must  bear  his  seal  and  if  he  finds  this  seal  to  be 
whole  and  untampered  with,  a  portion  of  the  grave 
charges  laid  against  your  foreman  will  be  removed. 
We  should  then  only  have  to  wait  for  the  report  of  our 
surgeons,  now  busy  with  the  autopsy. 

GERTRUDE. — The  package  in  question,  sir,  has  not 
left  the  inside  of  my  desk,  in  my  bed-room.  (Exit 
Gertrude.) 

CHAMPAGNE. — Ah,  General,  I  am  a  saved  man! 

THE  GENERAL. — My  po6r  Champagne! 

RAMEL. — General,  we  will  be  glad  to  be  able  to  pro- 
claim your  foreman's  innocence;  unlike  you  soldiers, 
we  are  greatly  pleased  to  be  defeated. 

GERTRUDE,  re-entering  the  room. — Gentlemen  here  is 
what  you  asked  for. 

BAUDRILLON,  putting  on  his  spectacles  and  examining 
closely  the  package  Gertrude  has  placed  in  the  Investigat- 
ing Judge's  hands. — It  is  exactly  as  I  delivered  it,  gen- 
tlemen, the  seal  is  unbroken. 

THE  JUDGE,  returning  the  package  to  Gertrude. — That 
will  do,  Madame.  But  lock  it  back  again  carefully ; 
we  hear  of  nothing,  nowadays,  but  stories  of  poison- 
ing cases. 

GERTRUDE. — It  was  in  my  private  desk,  sir,  to  which 
no  one  but  myself  and  the  General  has  keys.  (She 
returns  to  her  room.) 

RAMEL. — General,  we  shall  not  await  the  report  from 
the  medical  experts.  The  main  charge — a  very  grave 
one  you  must  admit,  and  concerning  which  the  whole 
town  had  grown  interested — having  been  satisfactorily 
explained  away,  and  the  skill  and  integrity  of  Doctor 
Vernon  inspiring  us  with  full  confidence,  (return  of 
Gertrude)  Champagne,  you  are  a  free  man.  (General 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  45 

movement  of  satisfaction.)  But,  you  see,  my  friend,  to 
what  ugly  suspicions  one  is  exposed  when  marital 
relations  are  known  to  be  bad. 

CHAMPAGNE. — Your  Honor,  ask  my  General  here 
whether  I  am  not  a  lamb  for  gentleness.  But  my 
wife — may  the  good  Lord  help  her  soul — was  the  worst 
creature  that  ever  lived — an  angel  could  not  have  stood 
her  temper.  If  I  had  to  give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind 
once  in  a  while,  the  last  half  hour  I've  had  to  go 
through,  is  sufficient  punishment  for  it !  To  be  taken 
for  a  poisoner!  To  be  arrested  on  such  a  horrible 
suspicion,  knowing  one's  self  to  be  innocent!  (Tears 
run  down  his  face.) 

THE  GENERAL. — Well,  everything  is  all  right  now, 
my  good  fellow,  since  full  justice  has  been  granted 
you — 

NAPOLEON. — Papa,  say,  what  is  justice  made  of,  any- 
way? 

THE  GENERAL. — Gentlemen,  the  representatives  of 
justice  ought  not  to  commit  such  blunders. 

GERTRUDE. — There  seems  to  be  always  something 
fatal  in  the  administration  of  justice!  This  poor  man 
never  will  see  the  end  of  the  evil  gossip  resulting 
from  your  visit,  gentlemen. 

RAMEL.  — Madame,  criminal  investigations  have 
nothing  of  a  fatal  character  as  far  as  innocent  persons 
are  concerned.  'See  how  promptly  Champagne  has 
been  set  free.  (Looking  into  Gertrude's  eyes.)  Those 
who  live  a  life  above  reproach,  who  have  none  but 
noble  affections  and  high  aims,  need  fear  nothing  from 
the  representatives  of  justice. 

GERTRUDE. — Ah,  sir,  how  little  you  know  the  people 
of  this  district —  Ten  years  from  now,  there  will  be 


46  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

somebody  to  say  that  Champagne  poisoned  his  wife 
and  that,  without  our  protection — 

THE  GENERAL. — Now,  now,  Gertrude,these  gentlemen 
have  done  their  duty.  (Felix  is  preparing  on  a  side-table 
to  the  left,  the  cups,  etc.,  for  after-dinner  coffee.)  May 
we  offer  you  a  cup  of  coffee,  gentlemen? 

THE  JUDGE. — You'll  have  to  kindly  excuse  me,  Gen- 
eral, but  my  wife  is  waiting  upon  me  for  dinner,  at 
our  Louviers  home.  (He  walks  to  the  glass  -  door  in 
answer  to  a  sign  from  a  doctor  who  lias  just  come  up  the 
stairs.) 

THE  GENERAL. — And  you,  Ferdinand's  friend,  will 
you  do  us  the  honor,  sir? 

RAMEL. — Ah,  General,  you  have  in  Ferdinand  the 
noblest  heart,  the  most  sterling  honesty  and  the  most 
charming  disposition  I  ever  met  with. 

PAULINE. — What  a  nice  man  this  public  prosecutor 
is! 

GODARD,  to  himself. — Why  does  she  say  that?  Is  it 
because  he  is  praising  this  Monsieur  Ferdinand  so 
highly?  There  may  be  something  in  that! 

GERTRUDE,  to  Ramel. — Whenever  you  have  any  lei- 
sure, sir,  try  to  come  and  call  upon  Monsieur  de 
Charny.  (To  the  General.)  We  shall  profit  by  it. 

THE  JUDGE. — Monsieur  de  La  Grandiere,  our  physi- 
cian just  reports  to  me  that  he  has  discovered,  as  Doc- 
tor Vernon  did  before  him,  that  the  death  in  question 
was  undoubtedly  due  to  Asiatic  cholera.  All  that  is 
now  left  for  us  to  do,  Madame  and  General,  is  to  ask 
you  to  excuse  our  short  intrusion  in  your  charming 
and  peaceful  home.  (He  walks  aivay,  the  General 
escorting  him  to  the  glass-door.) 

RAMEL,  aside  to   Gertrude  on  the  front  of  the  stage. — 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  47 

Beware,  Madame.  Fate  does  not  assist  such  reckless 
attempts.  I  have  guessed  everything.  Give  up  Fer- 
dinand; allow  him  the  freedom  of  his  life,  and  be 
satisfied  with  the  bliss  of  a  happy  wife  and  mother. 

GERTRUDE. — Give  him  up!     I  would  rather  die! 

RAMEL,  aside. — Well,  I  see  I  shall  have  to  carry  off 
Ferdinand.  (He  makes  a  sign  to  his  friend,  takes  himby 
the  arm  and  walks  out  after  bowing  ceremoniously  to  the 
ladies.) 

THE  GENERAL,  returning  after  bowing  Ramel  out. — At 
last,  we  are  rid  of  them !  (To  Gertrude.)  Please,  have 
the  coffee  passed  round. 

GERTRUDE. — Pauline,  kindly  ring  for  Felix.  (Paul- 
ine goes  to  the  bell  and  rings.) 


SCENE    IV 

THE  PRECEDING,  minus  FERDINAND,  RAMEL,  THE  JUDGE 
[and  BAUDRILLON. 

GODARD,  aside. — I  shall  know  in  a  minute  if  Pauline 
loves  this  Monsieur  Ferdinand.  The  little  one  with 
his  question  about  what  justice  is  made  of,  will  do  the 
job  for  me.  (Enter  Felix.) 

GERTRUDE. — The  coffee.  (Felix  brings  forward  the 
small  table  upon  which  the  cups  have  been  laid  out.) 

GODARD,  aside  to  Napoleon. — Do  you  want  to  play  a 
funny  trick? 

NAPOLEON. — Of  course  I  want  to?  Do  you  know  of 
any? 

GODARD. — Come  here  and  I'll  tell  you  of  something 
good.  (He  walks  with  Napoleon  as  far  as  the  outside  of 
the  glass-door.) 


48  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

THE  GENERAL. — Pauline,  my  coffee,  please.  (Pauline 
brings  him  a  cup.}  Not  quite  sweet  enough.  (She 
puts  in  one  more  lump  of  sugar.)  Thanks,  daughter. 

GERTRUDE. — Monsieur  de  Rimonville? 

THE  GENERAL. — Godard? 

GERTRUDE. — Monsieur  de  Rimonville? 

THE  GENERAL. — Godard,  my  wife  wishes  to  know  if 
you  want  any  coffee? 

GODARD.  Indeed  I  do,  Madame.  (He  goes  and  sits 
in  a  place  from  which  he  can  have  a  good  view  of  Pauline's 
face..) 

THE  GENERAL. — How  pleasant  it  is  to  enjoy  one's 
coffee  in  such  a  comfortable  seat ! 

NAPOLEON,  he  comes  in  on  a  run. — Oh,  mamma, 
mamma,  Ferdinand  just  fell  down;  he  must  have 
broken  his  leg  for  they  are  carrying  him  here — 

VERNON. — I  declare! 

THE  GENERAL. — That's  terrible! 

PAULINE,  falling,  half  fainting ,  in  an  arm-chair. — Oh! 

GERTRUDE,  to  Napoleon. — What  are  you  telling  us? 

NAPOLEON. — It  was  for  fun.  I  wanted  to  see  how 
much  you  all  loved  Ferdinand. 

GERTRUDE. — That's  a  very  naughty  thing  to  do !  But 
you  never  could  have  thought  of  it  yourself! 

NAPOLEON,  low,  to  his  mother. — No,  Godard  told  me. 

GODARD,  aside. — He  is  the  loved  one.  Pauline  got 
caught  in  my  trap;  it  never  misses. 

GERTRUDE,  to  Godard  while  she  offers  him  a  glass  of 
cordial. — What  a  very  poor  instructor  for  a  boy  you 
would  be,  Monsieur!  The  idea  of  your  teaching  a 
child  such  wicked  tricks ! 

GODARD. — You  will  realize  how  cleverly  I  have 
acted  when  you  know  that  my  little  scheme  has 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  49 

revealed  to  me  who  my  rival  is.  (He  points  to  Ferdi- 
nand who  is  just  then  entering  the  room.} 

GERTRUDE,  dropping  the  sugar-bowl  she  holds  in  her 
hand. — He ! 

GODARD,  aside. — What!     She  also? 

GERTRUDE,  aloud. — You  frightened  me ! 

THE  GENERAL,  rising. — What  is  the  matter,  my  dear 
child? 

GERTRUDE. — Nothing;  just  a  joke  of  Monsieur 
Godard  who  pretended  that  the  Public  Prosecutor  was 
on  his  way  back  here.  Felix,  take  away  this  sugar- 
bowl  and  bring  another. 

VERNON. — This  is  a  day  of  events. 

GERTRUDE. — Monsieur  Ferdinand,  you  will  have 
sugar  directly.  (Aside.)  He  is  not  looking  at  her. 
(Aloud.)  Well,  Pauline,  you  are  not  dipping  a  lump 
of  sugar  in  your  father's  cup,  as  usual? 

NAPOLEON. — Oh,  she  is  too  much  upset;  she  just  said 
"Ah!" 

PAULINE. — Can't  you  keep  quiet,  little  fibber?  You 
are  always  teasing  me.  (She  sits  by  her  father  and  dips 
a  lump  of  sugar  in  his  cup.) 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — Can  this  be  true?  And  I,  who 
have  taken  such  pains  with  her!  (To  Godard.)  If 
your  surmises  are  correct,  you'll  marry  her  within  a 
fortnight.  (Aloud.)  Monsieur  Ferdinand,  here  is 
your  coffee. 

GODARD,  aside. — So  I  have  caught  two  of  them  in  my 
mouse-trap!  And  the  General  keeps  so  serenely 
confident!  The  household  is  so  peaceful!  There  is 
going  to  be  some  fun!  I  shall  stay  for  a  game  of 
whist —  But  I  am  not  going  to  marry  the  girl,  not  I ! 
(Nodding  toward  Ferdinand.)  The  lucky  fellow! 


50  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

Loved  by  two  such  charming,  delicious  women !  What 
a  monopolizer!  But  what  has  the  fellow  got  that  I 
lack,  I  with  forty  thousand  a  year? 

GERTRUDE. — Pauline,  daughter,  offer  the  gentlemen 
the  cards  for  the  whist.  It  is  almost  nine  o'clock,  and 
if  they  want  to  play  a  couple  of  games  to-night,  it  is 
time  they  began.  (Pauline  arranges  the  cards.}  And 
you,  Napoleon,  it  is  your  hour  for  saying  good-night  to 
everybody.  Give  us  all  a  nice  opinion  of  you  by  not 
loitering  about  as  you  do  every  evening. 

NAPOLEON. — Good-night,  papa;  say,  what  does  justice 
look  like? 

THE  GENERAL.  — She  is  as  blind  as  a  bat !  Good-night, 
little  darling! 

NAPOLEON. — Good-night,  Monsieur  Vernon;  say 
what  is  justice  made  of? 

VERNON. — She  is  made  of  all  our  crimes.     When  you 
are  naughty,    you   get   whipped,    don't   you?      Well 
that's  justice. 

NAPOLEON. — I  never  have  been  whipped. 

VERNON. — Then    you  never  had   justice  dealt  you. 

NAPOLEON. — Good-night,  Ferdinand;  good  -  night, 
Pauline ;  good-night,  Monsieur  Godard. 

GODARD. — De  Rimonville. 

NAPOLEON. — Mamma,  I  have  been  good?  (Gertrude 
kisses  him.) 

THE  GENERAL. — I  have  drawn  the  king. 

VERNON. — And  I  the  queen. 

FERDINAND,  to  Godard. — We  are  partners,  sir. 

GERTRUDE,  noticing  Marguerite  at  the  door. — Now  go, 
darling,  say  your  prayers  nicely,  and  don't  tease 
Marguerite. 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  51 


SCENE   V 

THE  PRECEDING,  minus  NAPOLEON. 

THE  GENERAL. — When  this  child  gets  in,to  one  of  his 
questioning  fits,  he  is  very  amusing. 

GERTRUDE. — The  answers  are  often  quite  difficult  to 
find.  (To  Pauline.}  Come  over  here  and  we  will 
finish  this  piece  of  work  together. 

VERNON. — It's  your  deal,  General. 

THE  GENERAL. — Is  that  so?  Vernon,  you  ought  to 
get  married ;  then  we  could  go  to  your  place  as  you 
come  here  and  you  would  enjoy  all  the  delights  of 
family  life.  I  tell  you,  Godard,  there  is  not,  in  the 
whole  district  a  man  so  happy  as  I. 

VERNON. — When  one  is  sixty-seven  years  late  in 
catching  happiness,  one  can't  make  up  for  lost  time. 
I'll  die  a  bachelor.  (The  two  ladies  begin  work  upon  the 
same  piece  of  embroidery.) 

GERTRUDE,  to  Pauline. — My  dear  child,  Godard  told 
me  you  had  given  him  a  very  chilly  reception ;  he  is 
quite  a  desirable  suitor,  just  the  same. 

PAULINE. — Madame,  my  father  has  granted  me  the 
permission  of  choosing  my  husband. 

GERTRUDE. — Do  you  know  what  Godard  will  surely 
say?  That  you  have  refused  him  because  your  choice 
was  already  made. 

PAULINE. — If  it  were  so,  both  you  and  my  father 
would  know  all  about  it.  What  reason  could  there  be 
for  my  withholding  my  confidence? 

GERTRUDE. — There  might  be  a  reason,  and  I  should 


52  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

hardly  blame  you  for  it.  There  have  been  love  affairs 
of  which  the  secret  had  to  be  guarded  heroically  by 
women — guarded  while  a  thousand  torments  were 
being  endured. 

PAULINE,  aside,  while  picking  up  her  scissors  from  the 
floor. — How  right  Ferdinand  was  in  telling  me  to 
beware  of  her —  She  can  be  so  insinuating — 

GERTRUDE. — Should  it  happen  that  some  such  love 
enter  your  heart,  count  upon  me —  I  am  so  fond  of 
you  that  I  would  bring  your  father  to  give  in.  He  has 
some  confidence  in  me,  and  I  know  that  I  can  influence 
his  mind,  his  decision —  My  dear  child,  why  not  open 
your  heart  to  me? 

PAULINE. — It  is  an  open  book,  Madame;  I  hide  noth- 
ing from  you. 

THE  GENERAL. — Vernon,  what  are  you  doing?  (Mut- 
tered complaints  are  heard  from  the  card-table  ;  Pauline 
looks  in  that  direction.) 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — Direct  questioning  has  been  a 
failure.  (Aloud.)  How  pleased  I  am  to  hear  you 
speak  that  way !  This  provincial  wit  of  a  Godard  pre- 
tends that  you  almost  fainted  when  he  had  Napoleon 
cry  out  that  Ferdinand  had  broken  a  leg — Ferdinand 
is  a  pleasant  young  man  who  has  now  been  living  four 
years  in  our  family  circle.  Nothing  would  be  more 
natural  than  that  you  should  have  felt  attracted  toward 
him;  he  is  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  a  talented  man 
besides. 

PAULINE. — He  is  my  father's  clerk. 

GERTRUDE. — Ah,  thank  heavens,  you  are  not  in  love 
with  him!  I  had  quite  a  fright,  for  you  ought  to 
know,  my  dear,  that  he  is  a  married  man. 

PAULINE. — A  married  man!     Why  does  he  hide  the 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  53 

fact?  (Aside.)  Married!  That  would  be  infamous! 
I'll  know  to-night.  I'll  make  the  signal  agreed  upon 
between  us. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — Not  a  feature  of  her  face  moved! 
Either  Godard  is  mistaken  or  this  child  is  as  deep  as  I. 
(Aloud.)  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  darling? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  nothing. 

GERTRUDE,  touching  the  back  of  the  girl's  bare  neck. — 
How  hot  you  are!  Do  you  see?  (Aside.)  She  loves 
him,  I  know  it,  I  am  sure  of  it!  But  he,  does  he  love 
her?  Oh,  I  am  tortured! 

PAULINE. — I  suppose  I  applied  myself  too  closely  to 
our  work —  But  you  are  hot  too,  are  you  not — ? 

GERTRUDE. — Nothing  is  the  matter  with  me.  Were 
you  not  asking  why  Ferdinand  concealed  his  marriage? 

PAULINE. — Yes,  why? 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — Let  us  see  if  she  knows  the  secret 
of  his  name.  (Aloud.)  Because  his  wife  is  not  a 
discreet  woman —  Her  talking  would  compromise 
him.  I  can  not  say  any  more. 

PAULINE. — How  compromise  him? 

GERTRUDE,  aside,  as  she  rises  and  walks  away. — If  the 
girl  loves  him,  she  has  an  iron  will!  But  where  can 
they  have  met?  I  hardly  leave  her  a  moment  in  the 
day-time  and  Champagne  is  constantly  with  him  at  the 
factory —  No,  the  whole  thing  is  foolish!  If  she 
loves  him,  she  alone  is  in  love,  as  it  has  happened  to 
many  a  young  girl  who  was  attracted  to  a  man  without 
his  taking  any  notice  of  her.  But,  should  there  be  an 
understanding  between  the  two,  I  have  struck  too  deep 
for  her  not  to  communicate  with  him,  if  only  by  a 
look.  Oh,  I'll  not  lose  sight  of  them! 

GODARD. — We  have  won,  Monsieur  Ferdinand.     That 


54  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

was  fine.  (Ferdinand  leaves  the  card-table  and  walks 
toward  Gertrude.) 

PAULINE,  aside, — I  did  not  think  it  possible  to  suffer 
so  much  without  dying ! 

FERDINAND. — Madame,  my  seat  is  yours. 

GERTRUDE  — Please  enter  the  game  in  my  stead, 
Pauline.  (Aside.)  I  must  not  tell  him  that  he  is  in 
love  with  the  girl;  it  might  put  the  idea  into  his  head. 
What  can  I  do?  (To  Ferdinand.)  She  confessed 
everything  to  me ! 

FERDINAND. — She  confessed  what? 

GERTRUDE. — Everything. 

FERDINAND. — I  fail  to  understand  you.  Are  you 
speaking  of  Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp? 

GERTRUDE. 1  am. 

FERDINAND. — And  what  has  she  done? 

GERTRUDE. — Say  that  you  have  not  betrayed  me? 
That  there  is  not  between  you  two  an  understanding 
that  would  kill  me? 

FE-RDINAND. — Kill  you?     She?     I? 

GERTRUDE. — Or  am  I  the  victim  of  one  of  Godard's 
stupid  jokes? 

FERDINAND. — Gertrude,  you  are  beside  yourself — 

GODARB,  to  Pauline. — Oh,  Mademoiselle,  you  are 
making  lots  of  mistakes — 

PAULINE. — It  is  a  great  loss  for  you,  sir,  not  to  have 
my  step-mother  as  your  partner. 

GERTRUDE. — Ferdinand,  I  do  not  know  what  is  the 
He  and  what  is  the  truth  in  this  matter;  but  rather  a 
thousand  deaths  than  the  wreck  of  all  our  hopes ! 

FERDINAND. — You  had  better  be  more  prudent — 
For  the  last  few  days,  Doctor  Vernon  has  begun  to 
look  at  us  in  a  peculiar  way. 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  55 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — She  did  not  look  at  him.  (Aloud.) 
Any  way,  Pauline  shall  marry  Godard.  Her  father 
shall  compel  her  to. 

FERDINAND. — I  should  think  Godard  an  excellent 
match. 

THE  GENERAL. — There  is  no  use  going  on  playing 
that  way.  My  daughter  is  making  mistake  after  mis- 
take, and  you,  Vernon,  you  don't  seem  to  know  what 
card  you  are  throwing;  twice  you  trumped  my  kings. 

VERNON. — My  dear  General,  it  was  to  even  up  for  the 
girl's  errors. 

THE  GENERAL. — You  are  a  good-for-nothing,  that's 
what  you  are!  But  it's  near  ten  o'clock;  we  had 
better  go  to  bed  than  continue  playing  in  this  way. 
Ferdinand,  do  me  the  kindness  to  show  Godard  to  his 
room.  You,  Vernon,  ought  to  be  sentenced  to  sleep 
under  your  bed  for  trumping  all  my  kings. 

GODARD. — Remember,  General,  the  rubber  was  only 
five  francs. 

THE  GENERAL. — Five  francs  and  the  honor  of  win- 
ning, sir!  (To  Vernon.)  Hold  on,  although  you 
played  so  atrociously,  let  me  hand  you  your  cane  and 
hat.  (Pauline  picks  up  a  flower  from  the  flower-stand 
and  begins  to  play  witli  it  absent-mindedly.) 

GERTRUDE,  to  lierself. — Ah!  That's  the  signal! 
Now,  even  at  the  risk  of  being  killed  by  my  husband, 
I  will  watch  over  her  all  night! 

FERDINAND,  wlio  has  taken  a  candlestick  from  Felix. — 
Monsieur  de  Rimonville,  I  am  at  your  service. 

GODARD. — Madame,  I  wish  you  a  good-night!  Your 
respectful  servant,  Mademoiselle.  Good-night,  Gen- 
eral. 

THE  GENERAL. — Good-night,  Godard. 


56  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

GODARD. — De  Rimonville.     Doctor — 

VERNON  looks  at  Mm  and  wipes  his  nose. — Good-by, 
my  friend. 

THE  GENERAL,  leading  Vernon  to  the  glass-door. — Well, 
until  to-morrow,  Vernon,  but  don't  fail  to  come  early. 


SCENE    VI 

GERTRUDE.     PAULINE.     THE  GENERAL. 

GERTRUDE. — My  dear,  Pauline  refuses  the  offer  of 
Godard. 

THE  GENERAL. — And  what  are  your  reasons,  daughter? 

PAULINE. — I  do  not  like  him  well  enough  to  accept 
him  as  my  husband. 

THE  GENERAL. — All  right.  We'll  look  around  for 
another  suitor.  But  you  ought  to  come  to  some  early 
decision,  for  you  are  already  twenty-two  years  old  and 
people  might  begin  to  say  unkind  things  concerning 
you,  and  my  wife,  and  myself. 

PAULINE. — Is  it  not  allowable,  then,  to  remain  single? 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  the  General. — She  has  made  her 
choice,  but  will  not  tell  the  name  to  any  one  except 
you.  I  leave  you  two  together;  she'll  surely  confess 
all  to  you.  (To  Pauline.}  Good-night,  child;  open 
your  heart  to  your  father.  (Aside.)  I'll  listen  to  their 
conversation.  (She  closes  the  glass-door  and  then  with- 
draws through  the  door  leading  to  her  apartment.) 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  57 


SCENE    VII 

THE  GENERAL.     PAULINE. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — Obtain  a  confession  out  of  my 
daughter —  I  am  absolutely  unfit  for  such  a  task. 
She  would  easier  get  a  confession  out  of  me.  (Aloud.) 
Pauline,  come  here.  (He  takes  her  on  Ms  knee.)  Now, 
don't  you  know  that  an  old  soldier  like  me  guesses 
what  is  hidden  behind  such  resolution  to  remain 
single?  This  means,  in  every  language  in  the  world, 
that  the  young  lady  in  question  wants  to  marry — the 
man  she  loves. 

PAULINE. — Papa,  I  should  like  to  tell  you  something, 
but  I  have  no  confidence  in  you. 

THE  GENERAL. — No  confidence!  What  do  you  mean, 
missie? 

PAULINE. — You  repeat  everything  to  your  wife. 

THE  GENERAL. — And  what  secret  can  you  possibly 
have  that  must  not  be  told  to  that  angel,  to  the  woman 
who  has  brought  you  up,  to  your  second  mother? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  if  you  begin  to  get  angry,  I  am  going 
right  to  bed —  I  imagined  that  a  father's  heart  was 
the  surest  shelter  for  a  daughter. 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  you  cajoling  little  one —  Well, 
for  your  sake,  I'll  be  as  gentle — 

PAULINE. — Oh,  how  kind  you  are!  And,  now  tell 
me,  if  I  should  love  the  son  of  one  of  these  men  you 
are  cursing? 

THE  GENERAL,  he  rises  suddenly  and  pushes  his  daughter 
away  from  him, — If  you  did  that  I  would  curse  you, 
too. 


58  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

PAULINE. — Ah,  so,  that's  what  you  call  being  gen- 
tle, is  it?  (Gertrude  appears  at  her  half -opened  door.) 

THE  GENERAL. — My  child,  there  are  feelings  that 
must  never  be  awakened  within  me.  They  belong  to 
my  very  life.  You  don't  want  to  cause  your  father's 
death? 

PAULINE. — Oh! 

THE  GENERAL. — Dear  child !  I  had  my  full  share  of 
hard  times,  and  now,  living  here  with  you,  with  my 
Gertrude,  my  existence  is  truly  to  be  envied!  Well, 
charming  and  sweet  as  my  life  be  here,  I  would  leave 
it  without  regret  if  by  so  doing  I  could  make  you 
happy;  for,  we  owe  happiness  to  those  we  have 
brought  into  the  world. 

PAULINE,  noticing  Gertrude's  half-opened  door,  aside. — 
Ah  she  is  listening.  (Aloud.)  Father,  there  is  noth- 
ing in  the  matter  to  give  you  the  slightest  anxiety. 
But — just  let  me  ask  you,  if  I  did  have  such  a  feeling, 
and  it  were  so  overpowering  that  I  would  die  for  it? 

THE  GENERAL. — If  it  were  so,  you  should  tell  me  noth- 
ing about  it — that  would  be  far  wiser — and  then  await 
my  death.  And  even  then,  if  it  be  true  that  for  a 
father  there  is  nothing  more  sacred,  after  God  and  his 
country,  than  his  own  children,  must  not  children,  in 
their  turn,  hold  sacred  the  wishes  of  their  father  and 
obey  him  even  after  his  death?  If  you  ceased  to  be 
true  to  this  hatred  of  mine,  I  believe  I  would  come 
out  of  my  grave  and  curse  you. 

PAULINE,  kissing  her  father. — Oh,  angry,  angry  papa! 
Now  I  shall  know  if  you  can  be  discreet —  Give  me 
your  word  of  honor  not  to  repeat  anything  of  all  this! 

THE  GENERAL. — I  give  it.  But  what  can  be  your 
reason  for  not  trusting  Gertrude? 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  59 

PAULINE. — If  I  told  you,  you  would  not  believe  me. 

THE  GENERAL. — Is  it  your  intention  to  worry  your 
father? 

PAULINE. — Indeed  not —  But  tell  me  what  is  dearer 
to  you,  your  hatred  against  the  traitors  or  your  own 
honor? 

THE  GENERAL. — The  one  is  as  dear  to  me  as  the 
other;  they  flow  from  the  same  principle. 

PAULINE. — Well,  then,  if  you  break  the  word  of  honor 
you  just  gave  me,  you  might  just  as  well  be  untrue  to 
your  hatred.  That's  all  I  wanted  to  know. 

THE  GE-NERAL,  aside. — If  women  are  angels,  at  times 
they  are  regular  devils.  How  in  the  world  can  such 
ideas  enter  the  innocent  mind  of  my  daughter! 
That's  how  they  all  lead  us  \>y — 

PAULINE. — Good-night,  papa. 

THE  GENERAL. — Naughty  child,  you!    (He  kisses  her.} 

PAULINE. — Be  discreet  or  I'll  bring  you  a  son-in-law 
that  will  make  you  shudder. 


SCENE   VIII 

THE  GENERAL,  alone, — There  must  be  a  solution  to 
this  enigma.  It  has  to  be  found.  The  two  of  us,  Ger- 
trude and  I,  will  solve  the  riddle  all  right. 

(TABLEAU,  CURTAIN.) 


60  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

SECOND   TABLEAU 

(TJie  stage  now  represents  the  bed-room  of  Pauline.  It  is  very 
simply  furnished,  with  the  bed  at  the  right  back-ground,  and  a 
small  round  table  at  the  left.  The  entrance  is  at  the  right: 
besides,  there  is  a  door  cut  into  the  high  panelling  and  not  visible 
unless  opened. ) 

SCENE    IX 

PAULINK. — At  last  I  am  alone  and  not  compelled  to 
pretend  any  longer!  Married!  My  Ferdinand  mar- 
ried! If  he  were,  he  would  be  the  most  cowardly,  the 
most  infamous,  the  vilest  of  men!  I  would  kill 
him! —  Kill  him!  Oh!  No!  I  should  not  survive  a 
minute  if  I  were  convinced  of  this  horror!  I  abomi- 
nate my  step-mother —  But  if  she  shows  herself  my 
enemy,  I'll  give  her  war  and  it  will  be  to  the  knife! 
I'll  tell  my  father  everything.  (She  looks  at  her  watch.) 
Half  past  eleven —  He  cannot  come  here  before  mid- 
night, when  the  whole  house  is  asleep —  Poor  Ferdi- 
nand, to  so  risk  his  life  for  one  hour's  chat  with  his 
future  wife !  How  he  must  love  me !  One  does  not 
face  such  perils  for  all  women !  And  I,  what  would  I 
not  do  for  his  sake !  Should  my  father  suprise  us  he 
would  surely  kill  me  first !  Ah !  To  doubt  the  man 
we  love,  what  a  torture !  It  is  worse  than  to  lose  him. 
In  death,  we  can  follow  him —  But  suspicion,  that's 
the  most  cruel  of  separations!  Hark!  I  hear  him 
coming —  (Enter  Ferdinand.) 

SCENE  X 

FERDINAND.     PAULINE.     (She pushes  the  bolt  of  the  door.) 

PAULINE. — Are  you  married? 

FERDINAND. — What  a  silly  question!  Wouldn't  I 
have  told  you? 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  61 

PAULINE. — Ah!  (She  falls  on  an  arm-chair,  then  on  her 
knees.)  Holy  Virgin,  what  pledge  may  I  give  you? 
(She  kisses  the  hand  of  Ferdinand.)  And,  you,  be 
blessed  a  thousand  times! 

FERDINAND. — Who  could  tell  you  such  an  absurdity. 

PAULINE. — My  step-mother. 

FERDINAND. — She  knows  everything,  or  if  she  does 
not  yet,  she  will  spy  upon  us  and  discover  all. 
With  such  women,  suspicion  equals  certitude.  Now, 
listen  to  me,  for  minutes  are  precious.  It  was  Madame 
de  Grandchamp  who  brought  me  to  this  house. 

PAULINE. — And  why  did  she  do  that? 

FERDINAND. — Because  she  loved  me. 

PAULINE. — This  is  horrible!     And  my  father? 

FERDINAND. — She  loved  me  before  she  married  him. 

PAULINE. — She  loves  you — but  you,  do  you  love  her? 

FERDINAND. — Would  I  have  remained  in  this  house? 

PAULINE. — Does  she  love  you — yet? 

FERDINAND. — Unfortunately,  she  does.  She  was,  I 
must  confess  it,  my  first  attachment;  but  now  I  hate 
her  with  all  my  soul's  might — I  hardly  know  why.  Is 
it  because  I  love  you  and  because  all  true,  pure  love  is, 
by  its  very  nature,  exclusive?  Is  it  because  the  con- 
stant comparison  between  an%angel  of  purity  like  you 
and  a  she-devil  like  her  awakens,  in  my  soul,  a  hatred 
for  everything  evil  as  strong  as  my  adoration  for  thee, 
my  own,  my  bliss,  my  delicious  treasure?  I  can  not 
tell.  But  I  do  hate  her  and  I  love  you  so  that  I  would 
not  care  if  your  father  killed  me  for  it.  One  of  our 
little  talks,  just  one  brief  hour  spent  together  seems 
to  me,  even  after  it  is  over,  worth  my  life. 

PAULINE. — Oh,  speak,  speak  on —  I  am  not  troubled 
any  longer!  After  listening  to  you,  I  feel  able  to  par- 


62  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

don  you  the  pain  you  caused  me  when  confessing  that 
I  am  not  your  first,  your  only  love,  as  you  are  mine! 
It  is  just  an  illusion  vanished.  Don't  you  know,  darl- 
ing, girls  are  foolish,  they  are  so  ambitious  in  their 
love  that  they  would  own  all  the  past  as  well  as  all  the 
future.  But  you  hate  her,  and  in  this  word  "hate" 
there  is  more  love  for  me  than  in  anything  you  have 
said  to  me,  these  two  years.  Ah,  if  you  knew  with 
what  cruelty  this  wicked  step-mother  of  mine  has 
turned  me  on  the  rack!  Oh,  I'll  have  my  revenge! 

FERDINAND. — Take  care !  She  is  a  dangerous  woman ! 
Your  father  is  in  her  power  and  she  will  fight  a  fight 
to  the  death. 

PAULINE. — To  the  death —     That's  just  what  I  want! 

FERDINAND. — Oh,  but  be  prudent,  my  dearest  one. 
We  want  to  belong  to  each  other,  do  we  not?  Well, 
then;  my  friend,  the  Public  Prosecutor,  insists  that  we 
must  have  the  strength  to  stand  a  short  separation  if 
we  are  to  triumph  over  the  difficulties  that  surround 
us. 

PAULINE. — Just  give  me  two  days'  time  and  I  shall 
have  obtained  everything  from  my  father. 

FERDINAND. — You  do  not  know  Madame  de  Grand- 
champ.  She  has  gone  too  far  not  to  risk  everything 
rather  than  lose  me.  Before  I  leave,  I  will  place  in 
your  hands  terrible  weapons  against  her. 

PAULINE. — Oh,  let  me  have  them  at  once! 

FERDINAND. — No,  not  yet.  And  you  must  give  me 
your  sacred  promise  not  to  use  them  unless  your  life 
is  endangered ;  for  it  is  almost  a  crime  against  the 
higher  laws  of  honor  that  I  shall  commit  in  arming 
you  with  them.  But,  for  your  sake,  what  would  I  not 
do? 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  63 

PAULINE. — And  they  consist  of — ? 

FERDINAND. — Of  the  letters  she  wrote  me  before  her 
marriage  and  a  few  of  a  later  date.  You  shall  have  them 
to-morrow.  But,  Pauline,  you  must  swear  upon  our 
love,  upon  our  future  happiness,  not  to  read  a  single 
one  of  them.  It  would  be  sufficient,  in  case  an  urgent 
necessity  arose,  that  she  should  know  that  they  are  in 
your  possession  to  bring  her  trembling  to  your  feet. 
Then,  all  her  wicked  plotting  will  go  to  pieces !  But 
let  it  be  your  very  last  resource!  And,  above  all, 
hide  them  well! 

PAULINE. — What  a  duel! 

FERDINAND. — A  terrible  duel,  indeed !  And  now, 
my  Pauline,  keep  courageously,  as  you  have  done  all 
this  time,  the  secret  of  our  love.  Wait,  before  con- 
fessing it  until  it  has  to  be  confessed. 

PAULINE. — Ah,  why  did  your  father  betray  the 
Emperor!  Lord  in  heaven,  if  the  fathers  knew  how 
cruelly  their  children  were  to  suffer  through  their 
faults,  there  would  be  none  but  good  people  in  this 
world ! 

FERDINAND. — Perhaps  this  sad  talk  is  to  be  our  last 
joy,  for  some  time  to  come? 

PAULINE,  aside. — I'll  join  him!  (Aloud.)  See,  I  am 
not  crying  any  more !  Tell  me,  will  your  friend  be  in 
the  secret  of  your  retreat? 

FERDINAND. — Eugene  will  be  our  intermediary. 

PAULINE. — And  these  letters? 

FERDINAND. — The  letters !  You  shall  have  them 
to-morrow.  But  where  will  you  hide  them? 

PAULINE. — I  will  keep  them  about  me. 

FERDINAND. — And  now,  good-by ! 

PAULINE. — Oh,  no,  not  yet! 


64  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

FERDINAND. — A  moment's  delay  may  ruin  us! 

PAULINE.  — Or  unite  us  for  ever!  Only  let  me  lead 
you  out  a  little  way!  I  am  always  so  anxious  until  I 
know  that  you  have  reached  the  garden  safely.  Come, 
come — 

FERDINAND. — One  last  look  at  this  maidenly  bovver 
where  everything  speaks  of  you — where  you  will  think 
of  me — 

(TABLEAU,  CURTAIN.) 


SCENE   XI 
(The  scene  shifts  back  to  that  of  the  First  Tableau.) 

PAULINE,  standing  outside  the  glass-door,  looking  into  the 

garden.     GERTRUDE,  in  front  of  the 

door  to  her  room. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — She  has  escorted  him  to  the  gar- 
den door —  He  was  deceiving  me —  And  so  was 
she —  (She  ivalks  to  Pauline,  takes  her  roughly  by  the 
hand  and  brings  her  to  the  front  of  the  stage.)  Will  you 
dare  tell  me  now,  Mademoiselle,  that  you  do  not  love 
him? 

PAULINE. — I  deceive  no  one,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE. — You  deceive  your  father! 

PAULINE. — And  you,  Madame? 

GERTRUDE. — So,  you  two  have  agreed  against  me, 
have  you?  I'll  go  straight  to — 

PAULINE. — You  shall  do  nothing,  Madame,  either 
against  me  or  against  him. 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  65 

GERTRUDE. — Do  not  compel  me  to  use  my  power. 
You  have  to  obey  your  father  and  he  obeys  me. 

PAULINE. — We  shall  see  about  that! 

GERTRUDE. — Your  coolness  makes  me  furious!  I 
feel  my  blood  rushing  like  fire  through  my  veins! 
Everything  looks  black!  Why,  girl,  don't  you  know 
that  I'd  prefer  death  to  a  life  without  him? 

PAULINE. — And  so  would  I,  Madame.  But  I,  I  am  free, 
I  have  not  sworn  fidelity  to  a  husband,  as  you  have — 
And  your  husband  is  my  father ! 

GERTRUDE,  falling  on  her  knees  before  Pauline. — But 
what  have  I  done  to  you  to  be  treated  in  this  wise?  I 
have  loved  you,  I  have  raised  you,  I  have  been  a 
mother  to  you ! 

PAULINE. — Be  henceforth  a  faithful  wife,  and  I  prom- 
ise to  keep  silent. 

GERTRUDE,  rising  hastily. — Ah!  Speak,  speak  as 
much  and  to  whom  you  please —  The  fight  has 
begun — 


SCENE    XII 

THE  PRECEDING.      THE  GENERAL. 

THE  GENERAL. — I  say,  what  is  the  matter  here? 

GERTRUDE,  to  Pauline. — Faint,  faint  away,  quick — 
(She  actually  drags  her  down  on  the  floor.)  The  matter 
is,  dear,  that  I  heard  meanings  in  Pauline's  room. 
The  dear  child  was  calling  for  help,  already  half- 
asphyxiated  by  the  flowers  in  her  room. 

PAULINE. — Yes,  papa,  Marguerite  forgot  to  remove 
the  flower-stand  from  my  room.  (The  two  women  move 
toward  the  door  of  Pauline'' s  apartment.) 


66  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

THE  GENERAL. — A  moment,  please —  Where  are  the 
flowers? 

PAULINE,  to  Gertrude. — I  don't  know  where  Madame 
carried  them. 

GERTRUDE. — There,  in  the  garden.  (TJie  General 
leaves  the  room  in  a  rush,  placing  his  candlestick  on  the 
card-table  to  the  left.) 


SCENE   XIII 

PAULINE.     GERTRUDE.     Later  THE  GENERAL. 

GERTRUDE. — Go  back  to  your  room,  and  lock  your- 
self in,  I  take  the  whole  matter  upon  myself!  (Paul- 
ine enters  her  room.)'  I'll  manage  him.  (Gertrude 
enters  her  room.) 

THE  GENERAL,  returning  from  the  garden. — I  did  not 
find  any  flower-stand,  anywhere.  I  begin  to  believe 
that  something  extraordinary  is  happening  here! 
Gertrude?  Ah,  Madame  de  Grandchamp,  you  are 
going  to  tell  me  all  about  it —  It  would  be  strange, 
indeed,  if  my  wife  and  daughter  agreed  in  fooling  me ! 
'He  picks  up  his  candlestick  and  enters  Gertrude's  room.) 

(CURTAIN  ON  SECOND  ACT.) 


THIRD   ACT 

(The  setting  of  the  stage  is  unchanged,  but  night  has  given 
way  to  the  day. ) 

SCENE    I 

GERTRUDE.     Later  CHAMPAGNE. 

GERTRUDE,  entering  through  the  glass-door,  carrying  a 
small  flower -stand.  She  puts  it  down  in  the  room. — I 
found  it  very  hard  to  get  him  to  give  up  his  suspicion. 
One  or  two  more  scenes  like  this  and  my  power  over 
him  will  be  gone.  But  I  have  secured  these  few 
minutes  of  liberty —  If  only  Pauline  does  not  disturb 
me —  Happily,  she  must  be  asleep —  She.  went  to 
bed  so  late !  I  wonder  if  I  could  not  lock  her  in?  (She 
walks  to  Pauline'1 's  door  and  finds  that  the  key  is  not  in 
the  lock.)  No,  it  can't  be  done — 

CHAMPAGNE,  entering. — Monsieur  Ferdinand  is  com- 
ing, Madame. 

GERTRUDE. — Thank  you,  Champagne.  Did  he  retire 
late,  last  night? 

CHAMPAGNE. — As  you  know,  Madame,  Monsieur 
Ferdinand,  patrols  the  factory  every  night  and  goes 
to  bed  about  half-past  one,  in  the  morning. 

GERTRUDE. — Does  he  sometimes  stay  up  later? 

CHAMPAGNE. — It  depends  on  the  time  it  takes  him  to 
make  his  inspection. 

GERTRUDE. — That  will  do,  thank  you.  (Exit  Cham- 
pagne.) As  the  price  of  a  sacrifice  which  has  now 
lasted  twelve  long  years  and  the  cruelty  of  which 

67 


68  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

only  women  can  understand,  I  asked  for  so  little! 
Just  to  have  him  near  me,  without  another  joy  but  the 
exchange  of  a  stolen  look  once  in  a  long  while.  I  was 
satisfied  with  the  knowledge  that  he  was  waiting  for 
me,  a  knowledge  which  is  all  sufficient  for  us  poor 
things,  who  are  not  entitled  to  the  full  delight  of  a 
pure,  heavenly  love.  Men  refuse  to  admit  that  we 
love  them  until  they  have  dragged  us  down  into  the 
mire !  And  see  how  he  rewards  me?  By  having  night 
meetings  with  that  stupid  girl !  At  any  rate,  he  shall 
have  to  pass  my  death  sentence  right  to  my  face ;  and 
if  he  dares  do  it,  I,  in  my  turn,  will  dare  to  break 
their  intercourse  at  once  and  forever!  I  know  how 
to  do  it!  But  here  he  comes!  I  feel  like  fainting 
away —  Oh,  Lord  in  Heaven !  Why  do  you  allow  us 
to  love  a  man  who  loves  us  no  more !  (Enter  Ferdi- 
nand. ) 


SCENE    II 

FERDINAND.     GERTRUDE. 

GERTRUDE. — Yesterday,  you  deceived  me.  You  came 
here  last  night,  opening  this  door  with  a  false  key  so 
as  to  see  Pauline,  at  the  risk  of  being  killed  by 
Monsieur  de  Grandchamp.  Oh,  spare  yourself  a  lie. 
I  saw  you,  I  caught  Pauline  just  returning  from  her 
nocturnal  promenade  with  you.  I  cannot  congratu- 
late you  upon  your  choice.  If  you  had  been  at  this 
very  spot,  yesterday  and  witnessed  the  audacity  of 
this  girl,  the  boldness  with  which  she  denied  every- 
thing, you  would  tremble  for  your  future,  that  future 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  69 

which  is  my  own  and  for  which  I  have  sold  myself, 
body  and  soul. 

FERDINAND,  aside. — The  avalanche  of  reproaches  I 
was  expecting.  (Aloud.)  Now,  Gertrude,  let  us  try 
and  talk  calmly,  both  of  us !  Especially  don't  let  us 
drop  to  any  mean  accusations.  Never  shall  I  forget 
what  you  have  been  to  me;  my  friendship  for  you  will 
remain  as  deep,  as  unwavering  as  it  is  now.  But  my 
love  is  no  more. 

GERTRUDE. — For  the  last  eighteen  months? 

FERDINAND. — For  the  last  three  years. 

GERTRUDE. — Then  you  are  bound  to  admit  that  I 
have  the  right  to  hate  your  love  for  Pauline  and  to 
fight  it  with  all  my  might?  For  that  love  has  made  of 
you  a  coward  and  a  criminal  as  far  as  I  am  concerned. 

FERDINAND. — Madame ! 

GERTRUDE. — Yes,  you  have  cheated  me —  Remain- 
ing here,  as  you  did,  between  us  two,  you  caused  me 
to  assume  a  role  which  was  against  my  whole  nature. 
As  you  know  I  am  violent  by  instinct.  Now,  violent 
people  are  sincere,  while  I,  I  have  been  treading  a 
road  of  infamous  deceits.  You  do  not  know  what  it  is 
to  have  to  find  every  day,  often  at  a  minute's  notice, 
some  new  lies  and  to  utter  them  as  with  a  poniard  in 
one's  heart —  Ah,  lying,  lying,  that's  true  punish- 
ment for  all  stolen  happiness !  It's  shame  if  one  suc- 
ceeds ;  it's  death  if  one  fails.  And  you,  you  are  envied 
by  other  men  when  women  love  you.  You  would  be 
applauded,  while  for  me  there  would  be  nothing  but 
contempt.  And  you  expect  me  not  to  defend  myself ! 
And  you  have  nothing  but  bitter  words  for  a  woman 
who  has  concealed  everything  from  you — her  remorse, 
her  tears!  The  wrath  of  heaven,  I  kept  for  myself 


70  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

alone ;  alone  I  descended  into  the  abyss  of  my  soul, 
deepened  by  my  sorrows!  And,  while  repentance 
would  try  to  force  an  entrance  into  my  heart,  my 
eyes,  when  looking  at  you  were  full  of  tenderness  and 
even  cheerful !  Ferdinand,  it  would  be  folly  on  your 
part  to  throw  aside  so  well  tamed  a  slave ! 

FERDINAND,  aside. — This  thing  has  to  stop.  (Aloud.} 
Gertrude,  listen  to  me.  When  we  met,  our  mutual 
youth  attracted  us  to  each  other.  I  succumbed  to 
what  you  may  call,  if  you  like,  a  selfish  impulse,  such 
as  is  found  in  every  man's  nature,  unknown  to  him, 
perhaps,  and  hidden  under  the  flowers  of  early 
romance.  There  is  so  much  wild  thoughtlessness  in 
our  feelings  at  twenty-two.  The  intoxication  that 
overpowers  us  gives  us  no  chance  to  see  life  as  it  is  or 
to  think  of  the  serious  conditions  of  the  future — 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — How  coolly  he  reasons  the  whole 
thing  out!  Oh,  it  is  infamous! 

FERDINAND. — I  loved  you  then  with  absolute  candor, 
with  an  entire  surrender  of  my  whole  being.  But 
since —  Well,  since  then — the  aspects  of  life  have 
changed  for  both  of  us.  And,  if  I  did  remain  under  a 
roof  that  ought  never  to  have  sheltered  me,  it  was 
because  I  had  chosen  Pauline  as  the  only  woman  with 
whom  I  could  find  happiness  to  the  end  of  my  days. 
Gertrude,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  throw  yourself  against 
these  decrees  of  Providence.  Do  not  torment  two 
beings  who  ask  their  life's  bliss  from  you,  and  who,  in 
exchange,  will  love  you  dearly. 

GERTRUDE. — Ah,  so,  you  are  the  martyr,  and  I  the 
torturer !  But,  should  I  not  have  been  your  wife  for 
the  past  twelve  years  if  I  had  not  set  your  prosperity 
ahead  of  my  happiness? 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  71 

FERDINAND. — Then  do  the  same  thing  again  to-day, 
by  granting  me  my  liberty! 

GERTRUDE.  — You  mean  the  liberty  of  loving  another — 
You  did  not  speak  in  this  wise,  twelve  years  ago !  And 
now  I'll  die  of  it. 

FERDINAND. — It  is  only  in  romance  that  one  dies  of 
love ;  in  real  life  time  brings  consolation. 

GERTRUDE. — But  do  you  not,  you  men,  die  for  a 
word,  a  gesture  that  has  offended  your  honor?  Well, 
then,  there  are  women  who  die  for  their  love's  sake, 
when  this  love  is  the  treasure  wherein  their  very  soul 
is  wrapped — and  I  am  one  of  these  women!  Since  you 
have  lived  with  us  I  have  feared,  almost  every  hour, 
some  dreadful  catastrophy!  And  I  have  had  con- 
stantly in  my  possession  the  means  to  leave  life  on  the 
minute,  if  fate  should  rule  against  us.  Look.  (She 
shows  him  a  small  phial.)  Here  is  how  I  have  lived  all 
along!  (She  bursts  out  sobbing.) 

FERDINAND. — Tears  now ! 

GERTRUDE. — I  had  promised  myself  to  master  them, 
but  they  choke  me —  This  coldly  polite  way  you  talk 
to  me  about  your  vanished  love  is  the  cruelest  of 
insults !  You  do  not  even  pretend  to  display  the  faint- 
est sympathy !  I  truly  believe  you  would  prefer  to 
see  me  dead  so  as  to  be  rid  of  me !  But,  Ferdinand, 
you  do  not  know  me!  I  am  resolved  to  confess 
everything  to  the  General,  for  I  will  not  deceive  him 
any  longer.  I  am  deathly  sick  of  all  that  lying!  I 
shall  take  my  child,  and  you  and  I  shall  flee  together — 
No  more  thoughts  of  Pauline ! 

FERDINAND. — Should  you  attempt  such  a  thing,  I 
would  kill  myself! 


72  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

GERTRUDE. — I  would  kill  myself  also,  and  thus,  united 
in  death,  you  would  never  be  hers ! 

FERDINAND. — What  a  truly  infernal  nature! 

GERTRUDE. — Besides,  the  barrier  that  separates  you 
from  Pauline  may  never  be  overcome.  What  could 
you  do  then? 

FERDINAND. — Pauline  will  know  how  to  keep  her 
freedom. 

GERTRUDE. — But  her  father  may  compel  her  to 
marry  some  one  else? 

FERDINAND. — I  would  die  of  it. 

GERTRUDE. — It  is  only  in  romance  that  one  dies  of 
love ;  in  real  life,  time  brings  consolation —  And  one 
does  one's  duty  by  keeping  true  to  the  woman  to  whom 
one  has  pledged  eternal  fidelity. 

THE  GENERAL,  from  the  outside. — Gertrude!  Ger- 
trude ' 

GERTRUDE. — I  hear  my  husband.  (The  General  is 
seen  entering.)  That's  the  reason,  Monsieur  Ferdi- 
nand, I  want  you  to  hasten  your  business  and  come 
back  to  me.  (Exit  Ferdinand.) 


SCENE    III 
THE  GENERAL.     GERTRUDE.     Later  PAULINE. 

THE  GENERAL. — What  is  the  meaning  of  this  early 
interview  with  Ferdinand?  Anything  about  the  fac- 
tory? 

GERTRUDE. — I'll  tell  you  what  is  the  matter;  for 
you  are  like  your  son,  you  are  bound  to  get  an  answer 
to  all  your  questions.  Well,  the  fact  is,  that  I  imag- 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  73 

ined  that  Ferdinand  was  somewhat  the  cause  of  the 
refusal  of  Pauline  to  marry  Godard. 

THE  GENERAL. — Thinking  of  it,  you  may  be  correct — 

GERTRUDE. — So,  I  had  Monsieur  Ferdinand  come  to 
me,  for  the  purpose  of  enlightening  my  doubts.  You 
interrupted  "our  conversation  just  as  I  was  on  the 
point  of  discovering  something.  (Pauline  listens  at  her 
half -opened  door.) 

THE  GENERAL. — But,  if  my  daughter  does  love  Ferdi- 
nand— 

PAULINE,  aside. — Oh,  I  must  hear  that — 

THE  GENERAL. — I  only  wonder  why,  last  evening, 
when  I  was  questioning  her  in  a  fatherly,  gentle  way, 
she  concealed  from  me  such  a  very  natural  feeling. 
She  knows  I  leave  her  her  freedom. 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  you  must  have  gone  at  it  in  the 
wrong  way,  or  questioned  her  when  her  heart  was  still 
hesitating —  A  girl's  feelings  are  such  a  mixture  of 
contradictions. 

THE  GENERAL. — As  a  matter  of  fact,  why  should  I 
oppose  her?  This  young  man  is  a  hard  worker, 
strictly  honest  and,  doubtless,  belongs  to  a  good 
family. 

PAULINE,  aside. — Oh,  I  understand  now!  (She  with- 
draws into  her  room  and  closes  the  door.) 

THE  GENERAL. — He  will  gladly  furnish  us  the  neces- 
sary information.  He  has  always  been  very  reticent 
concerning  himself.  But,  by  the  way,  you  must  know 
all  about  his  family;  didn't  you  discover  this  treasure 
yourself? 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  he  came  here  on  the  recommenda- 
tion of  old  Madame  Morin. 

THE  GENERAL. — She  is  dead. 


74  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

GERTRUDE,  fixide. — That's  just  why  I  mentioned  her 
name.  (Aloud.)  She  told  me  his  mother,  a  widow, 
was  still  alive,  and  living  somewhere  in  Brittany.  He 
has  been  a  model  son  to  her ;  she  belongs  to  an  old 
family,  over  there — the  Charnys. 

THE  GENERAL. — The  Charnys?  Well,  anyway,  if  he 
loves  Pauline  and  Pauline  loves  him,  I  would  prefer 
him  to  Godard,  in  spite  of  the  latter's  fortune.  Ferdi- 
nand knows  everything  about  cloth  manufacturing ;  he 
might  buy  the  factory  off  my  hands  with  Pauline's 
dowry;  it  would  prove  most  convenient  all  round. 
He  simply  needs  to  tell  us  where  he  comes  from,  who 
he  is,  who  his  father  was —  And  then  we'll  see  his 
mother. 

GERTRUDE. — Madame  Charny? 

THE  GENERAL. — Yes,  Madame  Charny;  she  lives  in 
Brittany,  doesn't  she?  Well,  Brittany  is  not  the  end 
of  the  world. 

GERTRUDE. — Use  some  of  your  diplomatic  tact,  some 
of  your  old  soldier's  shrewdness,  with  lots  of  gentle- 
ness, and  you  are  sure  to  be  told  by  the  child — 

THE  GENERAL. — Of  course,  lots  of  gentleness —  Why 
should  I  get  angry?  Ah,  here  comes  Pauline. 


SCENE    IV 

THE  PRECEDING.     MARGUERITE.     Later  PAULINE. 

THE  GENERAL. — Ah,  is  that  you,  Marguerite?  You 
very  nearly  caused  my  daughter's  death,  last  night, 
through  a  very  bad  mistake —  You  forgot — 

MARGUERITE. — I,  cause  the  death  of  my  child! 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  75 

THE  GENERAL. — You  forgot  to  remove  from  her  room 
a  flower-stand  containing  some  highly-scented  plants 
and  she  was  almost  asphyxiated. 

MARGUERITE. — I,  do  such  a  thing!  Why,  Madame 
must  remember  that  the  flower-stand  had  already  been 
removed  from  Mademoiselle's  room  when  we  were 
dressing  her  before  Monsieur  Godard's  arrival — 

GERTRUDE. — You  are  mistaken,  it  was  there — 

MARGUERITE,  aside. — This  is  a  tall  one,  this  is — 
(Aloud.}  Doesn't  Madame  remember  she  wanted  to 
place  some  natural  flowers  in  Mademoiselle's  hair  and 
she  remarked,  at  the  time,  that  the  flower-stand  was 
Hot  there? 

GERTRUDE. — You  are  making  up  a  story.  Well,  you 
tell  us  where  you  placed  the  stand. 

MARGUERITE. — At  the  bottom  of  the  porch  stairs. 

GERTRUDE,  to  the  General. — Did  you  find  it  there, 
General? 

THE  GENERAL. 1  did  not. 

GERTRUDE. — I  took  it  out  of  the  room  myself  and 
placed  it  there.  (She  points  out  to  the  porch  just  beyond 
the  glass-door.) 

MARGUERITE,  to  the  General. — Sir,  I  could  swear  on 
my  hopes  of  getting  to  heaven — 

GERTRUDE. — No  iisc  of  your  swearing.  (Calling 
out.)  Pauline! 

THE  GENERAL. — Pauline !  (The  girl  appears  on  the 
threshold  of  her  room.) 

GERTRUDE. — Was  the  flower-stand  in  your  room,  last 
night? 

PAULINE. — Yes,  it  was —  Dear  old  Marguerite,  you 
must  have  forgotten  all  about  it. 

MARGUERITE. — You   had  better  say,    Mademoiselle, 


76  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

that  somebody  carried  it  back  to  your  room  on  purpose 
to  make  you  sick ! 

GERTRUDE. — Who  is  that  somebody,  if  you  please? 

THE  GENERAL. — You  silly  old  thing,  if  your  memory 
fails  you,  do  not,  at  least,  accuse  other  people  of  your 
blunders. 

PAULINE.,  to  Marguerite. — Keep  silent!  (Aloud.)  Mar- 
guerite, it  was  there;  you  do  not  remember,  that's  all. 

MARGUERITE. — You  are  right —  Now  I  think  of  it, 
it  was  the  day  before  yesterday  I  removed  it. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — She  has  been  in  my  house  for 
over  twenty  years —  There  is  something  strange  in 
her  insisting  so  persistently.  (He  takes  Marguerite 
aside.)  What's  that  you  said  about  flowers  in  the  hair? 

MARGUERITE,  Pauline  makes  signs  to  Tier  behind  the 
General' s  back. — I  must  have  been  the  one  who  spoke 
of  it,  sir — I  am  getting  so  old  that  my  memory  is  not 
what  it  used  to  be. 

THE  GENERAL. — Then  why  do  you  hint  at  such  a 
wicked  thought  coming  to  any  one's  mind  in  this  honse? 

PAULINE. — Please  excuse  her,  father,  the  dear  crea- 
ture is  so  fond  of  me  that  sometimes  she  does  not 
know  exactly  what  she  is  saying. 

MARGUERITE,  aside. — Just  the  same  I  am  absolutely 
sure  I  took  the  stand  away — 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — Are  my  wife  and  daughter 
trying  to  deceive  me?  There's  something  queer  in  the 
whole  matter,  but  an  old  trooper  like  me  is  not  bam- 
boozled so  easily. 

GERTRUDE. — Marguerite,  we  shall  take  tea  here,  as 
soon  as  Monsieur  Godard  comes  down  from  his  room. 
Tell  Felix  to  bring  in  all  the  newspapers. 

MARGUERITE. — Yes,  ma'am. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  77 


SCENE   V     . 

GERTRUDE.     THE  GENERAL.     PAULINE. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  Pauline. — You  did  not  even  say 
good-morning  to  me,  you  undutiful  daughter.  (He 
kisses  her.) 

PAULINE,  returning  the  kiss. — But  you  begin  scolding 
for  trifles !  I  tell  you,  father,  it  is  about  time  I  under- 
took your  education.  At  your  age  you  ought  not  to 
lose  your  temper  so  easily !  Why,  a  young  man  is  a 
lamb  compared  to  you.  You  frightened  Marguerite 
almost  to  death,  and  when  a  woman  is  frightened  she 
is  likely  to  tell  a  little  lie  or  two — and  then  one  does 
not  get  at  the  truth — 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — Rather  hard  on  us,  isn't  it? 
(Aloud.)  Your  conduct,  daughter,  is  hardly  such  as  to 
quiet  my  temper.  For  instance,  now — I  wish  to 
marry  you  to  a  young  man — 

PAULINE. — A  remarkably  handsome  and  well-man- 
nered young  man  — 

THE  GENERAL. — Keep  silent  while  your  father  is  talk- 
ing to  you,  Missie.  You  refuse  a  man  whose  fortune 
is  at  least  six  times  larger  than  yours !  Of  course  you 
are  at  liberty  to  do  so,  but  then  you  must  tell  me 
whom  you  do  want,  especially  as  I  know  it  already — 

PAULINE. — Then,  father,  you  know  more  than  I  do. 
Won't  you  tell  me  his  name,  please? 

THE  GENERAL. — Well,  he  is  a  man  between  thirty 
and  thirty-five,  and  I  really  like  him  better  than  I  do 
Godard,  although  he  is  penniless ;  but,  then,  he  almost 
belongs  to  our  family,  already. 


78  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

PAULINE. — I  did  not  know  we  had  any  relatives  liv- 
ing with  us. 

THE  GENERAL. — What  grudge  can  you  possibly  have 
against  poor  Ferdinand  that  you — 

PAULINE. — Oh,  is  he  the  man?  Who  could  tell  you 
such  a  story?  Madame  de  Grandchamp,  I'll  wager. 

THE  GENERAL. — A  story !  So  you  never  thought  of 
him,  eh? 

PAULINE. — Never. 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  the  General. — She  is  lying; 
observe  her. 

PAULINE. — Madame  doubtless  has  good  reasons  for 
suspecting  me  of  being  in  love  with  my  father's  clerk. 
Oh,  I  understand,  she  wants  you  to  tell  me :  "Daughter, 
if  you  are  heart-free,  why  not  marry  Godard?"  (Aside 
to  Gertrude.)  This  move  of  yours  is  infamous!  To 
compel  me  to  deny  my  love  to  my  own  father!  But, 
you  just  wait,  I'll  have  my  revenge! 

GERTRUDE,  answering  in  the  same  way. — Do  your 
worst,  but  marry  Godard,  you  shall ! 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — Are  they  quarreling?  I'll  have 
to  talk  to  Ferdinand  about  it.  (Aloud.}  What  are 
you  saying  to  each  other? 

GERTRUDE. — Your  daughter,  dear,  is  furious  because 
I  suppose  her  in  love  with  a  mere  employe  of  yours ; 
she  is  deeply  humiliated. 

THE  GENERAL. — Then,  it  is  quite  sure,  you  do  not 
love  him? 

PAULINE. — Father,  I — I  do  not  ask  you  to  find  a 
husband  for  me — I  am  happy  as  I  am  now!  There  is 
only  one  thing  that  God  has  given  us  women,  as  our 
very  own,  and  that  is  our  heart —  I  fail  to  understand 
why  Madame  de  Grandchamp,  who  is  not  my  mother, 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  79 

should  have  anything  to  do  with  my  feelings  in  this 
matter. 

GERTRUDE. — My  dear  child,  all  I  want  is  to  see  you 
happy.  I  know  I  am  only  your  step-mother,  but  should 
you  have  loved  Ferdinand,  I — 

THE  GENERAL,  kissing  his  wife's  hand. — How  good 
and  kind  you  are ! 

PAULINE,  aside. — I  am  choking!  How  I  wish  I  could 
crush  her! 

GERTRUDE. — Yes,  I  should  have  thrown  myself  at 
your  father's  knees  to  obtain  his  consent,  in  case  he 
had  refused  it. 

THE  GENERAL. — Here  is  Ferdinand.  (Aside.)  I  am 
going  to  do  some  questioning  in  my  own  way,  and  I'll 
find  out  the  lay  of  the  land. 


SCENE   VI 

THE  PRECEDING.     FERDINAND. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  Ferdinand. — Come  to  me,  my  dear 
fellow.  Sit  down  here.  You  have  been  three  years  with 
us  now,  and  I  owe  to  you  my  restful  sleep  at  night. 
Although  our  business  is  a  very  large  one,  you  are 
almost  as  much  the  head  of  the  works  as  I  am  myself. 
If  you  have  shown  yourself  satisfied  with  a  salary, 
which,  although  fair,  was,  perhaps,  not  in  proportion 
to  the  services  you  have  rendered  me,  I  think  I  under- 
stand at  last  the  motive  of  your  disinterestedness. 

FERDINAND. — My  self-respect  is  my  motive,  General. 

THE  GENERAL. — Of  course,  of  course ;  but  does  not 
your  heart  count  for  a  great  deal  in  the  matter?  Now 
listen,  Ferdinand,  you  have  known,  for  a  long  time, 


8o  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

what  my  ideas  are  concerning  class  distinctions !  We 
are  all  self -made  men:  I  rose  from  the  ranks.  That's 
why  I  want  your  whole  confidence!  I  have  been  told 
everything!  You  are  greatly  attracted  toward  a 
young  person  now  in  this  room —  If  she  likes  you, 
she  is  yours.  My  wife  pleaded  your  cause,  and  it  is 
already  won  in  my  heart. 

FERDINAND. — Is  it  possible,  General?  Madame  de 
Grandchamp  has  pleaded  my  cause?  Ah!  Madame! 
(He  kneels  on  one  knee  before  her.)  How  can  I  fittingly 
proclaim  the  loftiness  of  your  soul !  You  are  sublime, 
Madame,  you  are  an  angel !  (He  rises  and  rushing  to 
Pauline.)  Pauline!  My  Pauline! 

GERTRUDE. — My  surmises  were  correct,  General,  he 
loves  Pauline. 

PAULINE. — Sir,  have  I  ever  by  a  word,  by  a  look, 
given  you  the  right  to  address  me  in  this  manner?  I 
am  deeply  astonished  to  have  inspired  in  you  the  feel- 
ings you  express  now ;  they  might  flatter  some  other 
woman ;  for  me,  I  have  higher  ambitions. 

THE  GENERAL. — Pauline,  my  child,  you  are  unneces- 
sarily hard —  There  must  surely  be  some  misunder- 
standing—  Ferdinand,  come  to  me,  please — nearer — 

FERDINAND. — But,  Mademoiselle,  since  your  step- 
mother, since  your  father  consent — 

PAULINE,  aside  to  Ferdinand. — Lost! 

THE  GENERAL. — Oh,  but  I  am  going  to  play  the 
tyrant —  Tell  me,  Ferdinand,  of  course  you  belong  to 
a  respectable  family? 

PAULINE,  aside  to  Ferdinand. — You  see  now! 

THE  GENERAL. — Certainly  your  father  did  not  occupy 
a  lower  position  than  mine,  who  was  a  plain  sergeant 
of  the  Watch. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  81 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — They   will  be  separated  forever! 

FERDINAND. — Ah!  (Aside  to  Gertrude.)  I  under- 
stand you!  (Aloud.)  General,  I  admit  that  in  a 
dream,  the  sweetest  of  dreams,  alas,  a  far-off  one,  such 
as  the  unfortunates,  without  family  or  money  abandon 
themselves  to — are  not  dreams  their  only  wealth? — I 
admit  that  I  did  dream  to,  some  day,  become  one  of 
you — a  happiness  intense  enough  to  drive  one  wild. 
But  the  reception  given  by  Mademoiselle  to  the 
expression  of  these  hopes  has  driven  them  away  never 
to  return.  I  am  fully  awake,  now,  General— ?  A  poor 
man  has  his  pride,  and  it  ought  not  to  be  wounded  any 
more  than  your  attachment  for  Napoleon.  (Aside  to 
Gertrude.)  The  part  you  play  is  terrible. 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  Ferdinand. — She  shall  marry 
Godard. 

THE  GENERAL. — Poor  young  man!  (To  Pauline.)  A 
fine  fellow!  I  like  him!  (He  takes  Ferdinand  aside.) 
I,  in  your  place  and  at  your  age,  I  would —  By  Jove, 
I'm  forgetting  that  she  is  my  daughter! 

FERDINAND. — General,  I  address  myself  to  your 
honor —  Promise  me  solemnly  that  what  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  will  be  kept  a  profound  secret  and  that  you 
will  not  tell  it  even  to  Madame  de  Grandchamp. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — I  declare,  he  also,  like  my 
daughter,  is  suspicious  of  my  wife.  By —  I  am  going 
to  know  what  all  this  means.  (Aloud.)  You  have  my 
word,  sir,  the  word  of  a  man  who  never  failed  to 
keep  it. 

FERDINAND. — Having  been  induced  to  reveal  that 
which  was  buried  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  and  the 
contemptuous  attitude  of  Mademoiselle  Pauline  hav- 
ing literally  struck  me  down,  it  will  be  impossible  for 


8z  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

me  to  remain  here.  I  shall  put  my  accounts  in  order 
at  once  and  leave  to-night  for  Havre,  where  I  hope  to 
find  a  ship  starting  at  once  for  South  America. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — Just  as  well  let  him  go  now. 
He'll  come  back!  (To  Ferdinand.)  May  I  announce 
your 'decision  to  my  daughter? 

FERDINAND. — 'Yes,  but  to  her  alone. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside  to  Pauline. — Pauline,  my  dear 
child,  you  have  so  cruelly  humiliated  this  poor  fellow 
that  the  factory  will  be  deprived  of  its  head ;  Ferdi- 
nand leaves  us  to-night  for  South  America. 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  Ferdinand.  —  She  shall  marry 
Godard. 

FERDINAND,  to  Gertrude. — If  I  am  unable  to  punish 
you  for  such  atrocious  conduct,  God  will  do  it ! 

THE  GENERAL,  to  Pauline. — South  America  is  very 
far — and  the  climate  is  murderous. 

PAULINE. — Yes,  but  fortunes  are  made  there. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — She  does  not  love  him!  (To 
Ferdinand.)  My  friend,  you  will  not  go  without  allow- 
ing me  to  supply  you  with  the  funds  needed  for  a  busi- 
ness start? 

FERDINAND. — I  thank  you  heartily,  General;  but 
what  is  due  me  as  salary  will  suffice !  On  the  other 
hand,  you  will  hardly  miss  me,  at  the  works,  for 
Champagne  has  been  carefully  trained  by  me  to  take 
my  place  as  the  head  of  the  manufacturing  department 
of  the  establishment.  If  you  will  kindly  walk  over  to 
the  office  with  me  I  can  show  you — 

THE  GENERAL. — All  right,  I  will  do  so.  (Aside.) 
Everything  is  getting  so  mixed  up  here  that  I  am 
going  to  send  for  Vernon.  The  advice  and  the  wide- 
awake eyes  of  my  old  doctor  will  prove  mighty  useful 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  83 

to  help  me  discover  what  is  troubling  the  peace  of  my 
home —  That  there  is  something  amiss  I  feel  certain. 
(Aloud.)  I  am  ready,  Ferdinand.  Ladies,  we  shall  be 
back  right  away.  (Aside.)  There  is  something — there 
is  something—  (The  General  and  Ferdinand  leave.) 


SCENE   VII 

GERTRUDE.     PAULINE. 

PAULINE,  locking  the  door. — Madame,  is  it  your  opin- 
ion that  a  pure  love,  a  love  that  concentrates  and 
broadens  all  human  happiness  and  allows  us  to  taste 
heavenly  bliss,  is  it  your  opinion  that  such  a  love  is  to 
us  more  dear,  more  precious  than  life  itself? 

GERTRUDE. — You  must  have  been  reading  Rousseau's 
Nouvelle  Heloise,  my  dear;  the  words  used  are  rather 
high-flown,  but,  in  the  main,  true. 

PAULINE. — If  it  be  so,  Madame,  you  have  made  me 
force  a  man  to  commit  suicide. 

GERTRUDE. — A  fell  deed  that  you  would  like  me  to  be 
guilty  of —  And  if  you  had  succeeded  in  compelling 
me  to  it,  your  soul  would  now  be  flooded  with  the 
bliss  that  fills  mine. 

PAULINE. — My  father  always  told  me  that  war 
between  civilized  nations  had  its  laws,  but  the  war  you 
wage  against  me,  Madame,  is  that  of  the  savages. 

GERTRUDE. — Then  do  the  same — if  you  can!  But 
you  are  helpless,  and  you  shall  marry  Godard.  He  is 
an  excellent  match  and  I  assure  you  that  he  has  all  the 
qualities  that  will  make  you  a  most  happy  wife. 

PAULINE. — And  do  you  believe  that  I  will  permit  you 
to  become  Ferdinand's  wife? 


84  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

GERTRUDE. — After  the  things  we  told  to  each  other, 
last  night,  why  should  we  resort  to  hypocritical  for- 
mulas? I  was  in  love  with  Ferdinand,  my  dear 
Pauline,  when  you  were  eight  years  old. 

PAULINE. — Yes,  but  you  are  now  over  thirty,  and  I, 
I  am  young!  Besides,  he  hates  you,  he  abominates 
you!  He  has  told  me  so,  and  he  will  not  have  any- 
thing  to  do  with  a  woman  capable  of  the  black  treach- 
ery you  are  guilty  of  against  my  father. 

GERTRUDE. — In  the  eyes  of  Ferdinand  my  love  for 
him  absolves  me  of  any  crime. 

PAULINE. — He  shares  my  feelings  towards  you, 
Madame;  he  loathes  you! 

GERTRUDE. — Is  that  so?  Well,  then,  it  only  strength- 
ens my  resolve.  Pauline,  if  I  did  not  want  him  out  of 
love,  I  would  claim  him  out  of  sheer  revenge.  When 
he  came  here,  did  he  not  know  who  I  was? 

PAULINE. — You  must  have  caught  him  in  some  snare, 
just  as  you  entrapped  us  a  moment  ago. 

GERTRUDE. — Now,  listen,  my  dear ;  a  few  words  will 
end  everything  between  us.  Didn't  you  say  to  your- 
self a  hundred,  a  thousand  times,  in  the  hours  when 
the  whole  soul  is  carried  away,  that  you  would  make 
for  his  sake  the  very  greatest  sacrifices? 

PAULINE. — I  have,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE. — Such  sacrifices  as  to  give  up  your  father, 
your  country,  to  yield  him  your  honor,  your  salvation  ? 

PAULINE. — Yes — yes !  One  only  dreams  of  something 
more  to  offer;  of  something  even  more  precious  than 
one's  self,  the  world  and  heaven! 

GERTRUDE. — Well,  Pauline,  everything  you  have 
dreamed  of  giving  him,  I  have  actually  given  him.  That 
means  that  nothing  can  stop  me  now,  not  even  death! 


THE    STEP-MOTHER  85 

PAULINE. — By  saying  this,  you  have  furnished  me  the 
right  to  defend  myself .  (Aside.)  O  Ferdinand!  She 
says  it  herself,  our  love  is  more  than  life!  (To  Ger- 
trude, who  has  taken  a  seat  on  the  sofa  while  Pauline  is 
talking  to  herself.)  Madame,  all  the  harm  you  have 
done  you  can  yet  repair ;  you  will  know  how  to  over- 
come the  difficulties  that  oppose  my  marriage  to  Fer- 
dinand. Your  power  over  my  father  is  such  that  you 
will  induce  him  to  even  give  up  his  hatred  for  General 
Marcandal's  son — 

GERTRUDE. — I  shall,  shall  I? 

PAULINE. — Yes,  Madame,  you  shall. 

GERTRUDE. — And  what  formidable  means  will  you 
employ  to  compel  me  to  do  this? 

PAULINE. — You  said  just  now  that  the  war  between 
us  is  a  war  of  savages? — 

GERTRUDE. — Say  a  woman's  war,  that's  more  ter- 
rible !  Savages  only  torture  the  body ;  we  send  our 
arrows  through  the  heart,  the  pride,  the  self-respect, 
the  inmost  soul  of  our  enemies ;  we  pierce  their  very 
happiness ! 

PAULINE. — Yes,  our  war  is  all  that;  and  it  is  truly  the 
whole  woman  I  propose  to  attack  now —  Listen.  My 
dear  and  deeply-esteemed  step-mother,  either,  before 
to-morrow,  all  the  obstacles  that  separate  me  from 
Ferdinand,  shall  have  been  removed,  or  my  father  will 
be  apprised,  through  me,  of  every  detail  of  your  con- 
duct, before  and  since  you  married  him. 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  that's  your  great  weapon,  is  it? 
My  poor  girl,  he  will  never  believe  you ! 

PAULINE. — Oh,  I  know  the  extent  of  your  power  over 
my  father's  mind — but  I  have  proofs ! 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  proofs !  proofs! 


86  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

PAULINE. — In  Ferdinand's  absence  I  visited  his 
rooms —  You  know  how  inquisitive  I  am !  and  I  dis- 
covered— your  letters  to  him,  Madame!  I  appropri- 
ated a  number  of  them  and  their  mere  reading 
will,  in  a  second,  dissipate  my  father's  delusions  con- 
cerning you,  for  they  will  prove  to  him — 

GERTRUDE. — They  will  prove  what? 

PAULINE.  — Everything ! 

GERTRUDE. — Wretched  child,  this  is  robbery,  and  it 
will  lead  to  murder — At  your  father's  age — 

PAULINE. — Did  you  not  murder  my  happiness  just 
now  when  you  forced  me  to  deny  to  the  face  of  my 
father,  of  Ferdinand,  my  love,  my  glory,  my  life — ? 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — I'll  swear  it  is  a  mere  trick  and 
that  she  knows  nothing!  (Aloud.}  This  is  a  trap — I 
never  wrote  him  a  line —  It's  a  lie —  It's  impos- 
sible—  Where  are  these  pretended  letters? 

PAULINE. — I  have  them. 

GERTRUDE. — In  your  room? 

PAULINE. — They  are  where  you  never  will  get  at 
them. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — I  feel  the  wild  fancies  of  insanity 
clutching  at  my  brain !  It  seems  as  if  murder  were 
oozing  through  my  fingers!  It  is  in  just  such  moments 
that  one  kills !  Ah !  how  I  could  kill  her !  Lord  God, 
do  not  forsake  me,  do  not  let  me  lose  my  reason! 
Now,  I  must  think! 

PAULINE,  aside. — Ah,  Ferdinand,  how  can  I  thank 
you  enough?  I  see  now  how  dearly  you  love  me;  I 
have  been  able  to  return  her  in  kind  the  harm  she  did 
me  an  hour  ago!  And,  besides,  she  shall  save  us! 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — She  must  have  them  somewhere 
about  her  person!  But  how  can  I  make  sure  of  it? 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  87 

Ah!  (Coming  closer  to  Pauline.}  Pauline!  If  you 
had  had  these  letters  long  you  would  have  known  that 
1  loved  Ferdinand ;  therefore  they  have  been  in  your 
possession  only  a  few  hours ! 

PAULINE. — I  have  had  them  since  this  morning. 

GERTRUDE. — You  have  not  had  time  to  read  them 
through,  then? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  I  have  read  enough  to  know  that  they 
are  your  ruin. 

GERTRUDE. — Pauline,  life  is  just  beginning  for  you. 
(A  knock  at  the  door.)  Ferdinand  is  the  first  man 
endowed  with  youth,  manners  and  talents — for  he  is 
full  of  talent — he  is  the  first  man  of  the  kind  you  ever 
met.  But  there  are  many  others  like  him  in  the 
world.  Ferdinand  lived  almost  under  our  own  roof ; 
you  saw  a  great  deal  of  him;  nothing  more  natural 
than  that  the  first  quickening  of  the  beatings  of  your 
heart  should  have  been  caused  by  him.  In  your  place, 
I  admit  it  would  have  been  just  the  same  with  me. 
But  you,  little  one,  know  neither  society  nor  life. 
And  what  if  you  have  made  a  mistake,  as  so  many 
women  have  done  before  you?  You  have  your  whole 
life  in  which  to  make  another  choice ;  for  me,  every- 
thing is  ended :  I  have  no  more  chance  to  choose !  I 
am  past  thirty;  Ferdinand  is  the  whole  universe  to  me; 
I  have  sacrificed  for  his  sake  that  which  ought  to  be 
sacred  to  all — the  honor  of  an  old  man !  To  you  the 
future  is  wide  open,  you  may  love  some  one  else  even 
more  passionately  than  you  are  loving  him  at  the  pres- 
ent time — such  things  do  happen!  O  Pauline!  do 
give  him  up,  and  in  me  you  will  have  the  most  devoted 
of  slaves !  I  will  be  more  than  a  mother,  more  than  a 
friend — your  ever-willing  and  passive  tool!  See  me 


88  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

now  at  your  feet !  (She  throws  herself  on  her  knees  before 
Pauline ,  her  hands  almost  touching  the  girPs  bosom.) 
Yes,  I,  your  rival,  am  here,  prostrated  before  you! 
Am  I  humiliated  enough?  And  if  you  knew  what 
this  costs  a  woman  to  do !  Have  mercy,  have  mercy 
upon  me!  (Repeated  and  angry  knocks  at  the  door. 
Seeing  Pauline  very  much  bewildered,  Gertrude  manages 
to  press  the  place  where  the  letters  are  hidden,  and  feels 
them  through  the  dress.)  Ah,  give  me  life  again! 
(Aside.)  She  has  them,  all  right — 

PAULINE. — Do  not  handle  me  in  this  way,  Madame, 
or  I  shall  call  for  help!  (She  pushes  her  step-mother 
away  and  rushing  to  the  door,  opens  it  wide.} 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — She  has  them,  she  has  them  on 
her  person,  but  they  must  be  got  from  her  within  an 
hour! 


SCENE   VIII 

THE  PRECEDING.     THE  GENERAL.     VERNON. 

THE  GENERAL. — Locked  in  together!  Why  did  you 
utter  that  shriek,  Pauline? 

VERNON. — Your  face  is  quite  disturbed,  my  dear  girl; 
let  me  feel  your  pulse. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  his  wife. — You  also  seem  all  upset? 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  it  was  all  a  joke,  we  were  just 
laughing;  were  we  not,  Pauline? 

PAULINE. — Indeed,  we  were,  papa;  my  dear  mamma 
and  I  were  frolicking  like  school-girls. 

VERNON,  aside  to  Pauline. — That's  a  pretty  tall  lie, 
young  lady. 

THE  GENERAL. — Yon  did  not  hear  the  knocking? 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  89 

PAULINE. — Oh,  we  heard  it  all  right,  but  we  did  not 
know  you  were  the  one  knocking,  papa. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  Vernon. — They  seem  to  be  leagued 
against  me.  (Aloud.)  Now  tell  us  what  was  really 
the  matter? 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  my  dear,  you  always  want  to  know 
everything,  the  beginning  and  the  end,  without  a 
minute's  delay!  At  least,  let  me  ring  for  the  tea. 

THE    GENERAL. Well,   Well! 

GERTRUDE. — You  are  a  regular  tyrant!  Now,  then, 
if  you  must  know,  we  locked  ourselves  in  so  as  not  to 
be  disturbed.  Is  that  clear  enough? 

VERNON. — It  is  certainly  clear  enough! 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  her  husband. — I  wanted  a  chance 
to  get  her  secret  out  of  your  daughter ;  for  she  has  a 
secret,  I  feel  sure  of  it ;  and  then  you  come  rushing  in ! 
You,  for  the  sake  of  whom  I  do  all  this,  for  Pauline  is 
not  my  child,  you  charge  upon  us  as  if  we  were  the 
enemy's  troops,  and  you  interrupt  me  just  when  I  am 
about  learning  something  of  importance! 

THE  GENERAL. — Madame,  since  Godard's  arrival — 

GERTRUDE. — Ah,  now,  you  bring  in  Godard — 

THE  GENERAL. — Please,  do  not  make  fun  of  my  state- 
ments! Yes,  since  yesterday,  nothing  here  runs  in 
the  usual  way.  And,  by  God,  I  am  going  to  find  out — 

GERTRUDE. — Oaths  now !  It  is  the  first  time,  sir, 
that  an  oath  has  been  uttered  in  my  presence.  (To 
Felix  who  enters  the  room.)  Felix,  the  tea,  please.  (To 
the  General.)  Have  you  become  tired  of  your  twelve 
years  of  continued  happiness? 

THE  GENERAL. — I  am  not,  and  never  shall  be,  a 
tyrant!  But  I  think  it  strange  that  when  I  came  in,  a 
few  moments  ago,  and  you  were  talking  with  Ferdi- 


po  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

nand,  I  was  made  to  feel  de  trop  and  that  the  very 
same  thing  should  happen  again,  just  now,  when  I 
found  you  locked  in  with  my  daughter.  And  then, 
last  night — 

VERNON. — General,  General,  you  may  quarrel  with 
Madame  as  much  as  you  please  but  not  before  people. 
(Godard  is  heard  coming.)  I  hear  Godard.  (Aside  to 
the  General.)  Is  this  what  you  promised  me?  Didn't 
I  tell  you  that  with  women — and  God  knows  how 
many  of  the  sweet  things  I  have  had  confessing  to  me, 
their  doctor — with  women  it  is  better  to  let  things  go 
their  way  until  they  betray  themselves.  If  they  are 
treated  differently,  and  the  least  violence  comes  into 
play,  down  flow  the  tears  and  the  hydraulic  system 
once  started,  they  are  capable  of  drowning  Hercules ! 


SCENE   IX 

THE  PRECEDING.     GODARD. 

GODARD. — I  came  down,  some  time  ago,  to  offer  my 
respects,  but  I  found  the  door  of  this  room  locked. 
General,  I  wish  you  good-morning.  (The  General  con- 
tinues looking  over  his  papers  and  waves  his  hand  toward 
Godard.)  Ah,  here  is  my  adversary  of  yesterday — 
Are  you  coming  for  your  revenge,  doctor? 

VERNON. — No,  I  am  coming  for  some  tea. 

GODARD. — Ah,  so  you  are  cultivating  here  this  Eng- 
lish, Russian  and  Chinese  habit? 

PAULINE. — Would  you  prefer  coffee? 

GERTRUDE,  to  Marguerite,  who  is  standing  near  the 
door. — Marguerite,  bring  some  coffee,  please. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  91 

GODARD. — Not  for  me,  Madame,  with  your  permis- 
sion. I  shall  take  tea;  it  will  be  a  change.  Besides, 
you  have  your  luncheon  at  noon,  I  understand,  and 
coffee  now  would  cut  my  appetite  for  that  meal.  The 
English,  the  Russians  and  the  Chinese  may  not  be  so 
very  wrong,  after  all. 

VERNON.  — Tea,  sir,  is  an  excellent  drink. 

GODARD. — Especially  good  tea. 

PAULINE. — This  is  caravan  tea,  sir. 

GERTRUDE. — Doctor,  here  are  the  newspapers.  (To 
Pauline.}  Go  over,  and  talk  with  Monsieur  de  Rimon- 
ville,  my  dear  child.  I'll  make  the  tea. 

GODARD. — Perhaps  Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp 
does  not  care  any  more  for  my  conversation  than  she 
does  for  my  person? 

PAULINE. — You  are  mistaken,  Monsieur — 

THE  GENERAL. — Godard. 

PAULINE. — If  you  will  do  me  the  kindness  not  to  wish 
me  any  longer  for  your  wife,  you  will  be  immediately 
endowed  in  my  eyes  with  the  qualities  that  attracted 
so  powerfully  Mesdemoiselles  de  Boudeville,  de  Clin- 
ville,  de  Derville,  etc. 

GODARD. — Ah,  please,  show  some  mercy,  Made- 
moiselle! Why  must  you  make  such  fun  of  a  suitor 
you  rejected  in  spite  of  his  forty  thousand  a  year? 
And  I  tell  you,  the  longer  I  stay  here  the  more  I  regret 
your  cruel  decision.  What  a  happy  man  this  Monsieur 
de  Charny  is ! 

PAULINE.  — And  why  happy,  the  poor  fellow?  Because 
he  is  my  father's  chief  clerk? 

GERTRUDE. — Monsieur  de  Rimonville — 

THE  GENERAL. — Godard — 

GERTRUDE. — Monsieur  de  Rimonville — 


92  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

THE  GENERAL. — Godard,  my  wife  is  speaking  to  you. 
GERTRUDE. — Do  you  like  a  little  or  much  sugar  in 
your  tea? 

GODARD. — Just  SO  SO. 

GERTRUDE. — And  very  little  cream,  I  suppose? 

GODARD. — On  the  contrary,  lots  of  it,  if  you  are  so 
kind?  (Aside  to  Pauline.)  So  Monsieur  Ferdinand  is 
not  the  man  you  have — distinguished —  Well,  I  can 
assure  you  that  he  is  very  much  to  the  taste  of  your 
step-mother. 

PAULINE,  aside. — What  a  plague  these  inquisitive 
people  are! 

GODARD,  aside. — I  must  have  some  fun  before  taking 
my  leave;  I  want  to  get  my  money's  worth! 

GERTRUDE. — Monsieur  de  Rimonville,  if  you  wish 
something  more  substantial,  here  are  sandwiches. 

GODARD. — Thank  you,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE,  aside  to  Godard. — Everything  is  not  lost 
for  you  yet. 

GODARD. — Oh,  Madame,  Mademoiselle  Pauline's 
refusal  has  led  me  to  do  lots  of  thinking. 

GERTRUDE. — Is  that  so?  (To  the  doctor.)  Your  tea 
as  usual,  doctor? 

VERNON. — If  you  please,  Madame. 

GODARD,  aside  to  Pauline. — The  poor  fellow,  did  you 
say,  Mademoiselle?  Why,  Monsieur  Ferdinand  is  not 
so  poor  as  you  believe  him  to  be.  He  is  richer  than  I 
am! 

PAULINE. — How  do  you  happen  to  know  that? 

GODARD. — Oh,  I  am  certain  of  it,  and  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  the  whole  secret. " 

PAULINE,  aside. — Lord  in  heaven!  does  he  know  his 
real  name? 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  93 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — A  few  drops  of  opium  in  her  tea 
will  put  her  to  sleep  and  I  shall  be  saved ! 

GODARD. — You  would  never  guess  who  put  me  on  the 
track. 

PAULINE. — O,  sir!  for  pity's  sake — 

GODARD. — It  was  the  Public  Prosecutor.  I  remem- 
bered that,  at  the  Boudevilles,  they  were  saying  that 
your  chief  clerk — 

PAULINE,  aside. — He  is  torturing  me — 

GERTRUDE,  to  Pauline. — Here  is  your  cup,  Pauline. 

VERNON,  aside. — Am  I  crazy?  I  thought  I  saw  her 
put  something  in  Pauline's  cup ! 

PAULINE. — And  what  did  these  people  say? 

GODARD. — Ah,  how  you  listen  to  me !  I  should  feel 
flattered  indeed  if  I  knew  you  would  look  as  inter- 
ested, if  something  concerning  me  was  mentioned 
in  your  presence,  as  you  are  now  that  I  speak  of  Mon- 
sieur Ferdinand. 

PAULINE. — What  a  strange  taste  this  tea  has!  Do 
you  like  yours? 

GODARD. — Oh,  now,  you  are  talking  about  the  tea  to 
hide  your  interest  in  the  present  subject.  That's  an 
old  dodge —  Well  then,  I  am  going  to  excite  your 
curiosity  to  the  highest  pitch  by  telling  you  that  Mon- 
sieur Ferdinand  is — 

PAULINE. — Is? 

GODARD. — A  millionaire! 

PAULINE. — You  are  making  fun  of  me,  Monsieur 
Godard. 

GODARD. — On  my  word  of  honor,  I  am  doing  nothing 
of  the  kind,  Mademoiselle;  he  really  owns  a  treasure — 
(Aside.}  She  is  wildly  in  love  with  him. 

PAULINE,  aside.  — What  a  fright  the  stupid  fellow  gave 


94  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

me !     (She  rises  with  her  cup  in  hand ;    Vernon  takes  it 
from  her  as  she  walks  to  the  tea  table.') 

VERNON. — Allow  me,  my  dear  child. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  his  wife. — What  is  the  matter, 
dear?  You  seem — 

VERNON,  rapidly  exchanging  his  cup  for  that  of  Pauline, 
nobody  noticing  him. — (Aside,  after  tasting  the  half -full 
cup.}  It  is  laudanum,  but  happily  the  dose  is  small. 
Well,  we  may  expect  some  startling  developments 
very  soon.  (To  Godard.)  Monsieur  Godard,  you  are  a 
very  shrewd  man.  (Godard  pulls  out  his  handkerchief 
and  pretends  to  blow  his  nose.)  Ah!  (Vernon  laughs.} 

GODARD. — Doctor,  no  ill-feeling  on  my  part — 

VERNON. — Now,  listen:  Do  you  think  you  could 
manage  to  get  the  General  over  to  the  factory  and 
keep  him  there  for  an  hour? 

GODARD. — I  should  need  the  boy. 

VERNON. —  Unfortunately,  he  is  at  school  until 
luncheon  time. 

GODARD. — May  I  know  your  purpose? 

VERNON. — I  can  only  tell  you  that  it  is  a  very  praise- 
worthy one,  and  as  you  are  a  courteous  gentleman — 
Do  you  really  love  Pauline? 

GODARD. — Oh,  I  did  love  her  yesterday,  but  this 
morning —  (Aside.}  I'll  manage  to  discover  what  he 
wants  me  to  do  that  for !  (To  Vernon.)  All  right,  I'll 
do  it.  I  shall  walk  down  the  outside  steps  and  return 
at  once  saying  that  Ferdinand  wants  the  General  at 
the  works.  I'll  fix  the  thing  for  you —  It's  no  use, 
though.  Here  is  Ferdinand  himself  coming  in.  (He 
goes  toward  the  glass-door.) 

PAULINE. — It's  strange  how  sleepy  I  feel!  (She  walks 
to  the  sofa  and  stretches  herself  on  it.  Ferdinand  comes 
forward  chatting  with  Godard.) 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  95 

SCENE    X 
THE  PRECEDING.     FERDINAND. 

FERDINAND. — General,  your  presence  is  needed  at  the 
office  to  verify  my  accounts. 

THE  GENERAL. — Of  course ;  I  am  coming. 

GODARD. — General,  with  your  permission,  I'll  take 
this  occasion  of  visiting  your  establishment.  I  have 
never  been  through  it. 

THE  GENERAL. — All  right,  come  along,  Godard. 

GODARD. — De  Rimonville. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — They  leave  the  room;  Fate  is 
with  me. 

VERNON,  who  has  overheard  her  aside. — In  this  case  I 
happen  to  be  Fate. 


SCENE   XI 

GERTRUDE.     VERNON.     PAULINE.     Later  MARGUERITE. 

GERTRUDE. — Doctor,  do  you  want  another  cup  of  tea? 

VERNON. — No,  thank  you.  I  have  been  so  absorbed 
in  these  electoral  returns,  that  I  have  not  finished  my 
first  cup. 

GERTRUDE,  pointing  to  Pauline. — The  poor  child  is 
asleep. 

VERNON. — What,  asleep!     At  this  time  of  day? 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  it  is  not  surprising.  I  must  tell 
you,  doctor,  that  she  did  not  go  to  sleep  until  past 
three  o'clock  this  morning.  We  had  quite  a  scare  dur- 
ing the  night. 


96  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

VERNON. — I  am  going  to  help  you  carry  her  to  her 
room. 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  no,  thank  you;  here  is  Marguerite, 
who  will  assist  me.  (Marguerite  who  for  some  time  lias 
been  seen  near  the  glass-door  comes  over,  upon  a  sign  from 
her  mistress.)  Let  us  carry  the  child  to  her  bed;  she'll 
be  more  comfortable.  (Gertrude  and  Marguerite  leave 
the  room  carrying  Pauline,) 


SCENE   XII 

VERNON.     FELIX,  ivho  has  just  stepped  in. 

VERNON. — Felix! 

FELIX. — What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir? 

VERNON. — Is  there  a  closet  in  this  room  where  I 
could  store  something? 

FELIX,  opening  a  closet. — Here,  sir. 

VERNON,  carrying  into  it  Pauline's  tea-cup. — That'll 
do  very  well.  Now,  Felix,  don't  say  a  word  of  this  to 
anybody.  (Aside.)  The  man  is  sure  to  remember  the 
incident.  (Aloud.)  It's  a  practical  joke  I  want  to 
play  on  the  General,  and  it  would  miss  fire  if  you 
talked  about  it. 

FELIX. — I'll  be  as  dumb  as  a  fish,  sir. 

VERNON,  turning  the  key  of  the  closet  and  putting  it  into 
his  pocket. — Now,  when  your  mistress  returns,  leave 
me  alone  with  her  and  don't  let  anybody  disturb  us 
for  a  few  minutes. 

FELIX,  aside  as  he  goes  out. — Marguerite  was  right; 
there  is  something  in  the  air,  sure. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  97 

MARGUERITE,  to  Vernon  as  she  re-enters  the  room. — 
There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  Mademoiselle.  She 
sleeps  peacefully. 


SCENE   XIII 

VERNON. — What  it  is  it  that  will  suddenly  set  a-quar- 
reling  two  women  who  previously  have  been  living  in 
peace?  All  physicians  of  a  philosophic  turn  of  mind 
know  pretty  well  the  infallible  cause.  Poor  General, 
who  all  his  life  thought  he  could  escape  the  common 
fate!  Still  the  only  men  in  his  house  are  Ferdinand 
and  I — I  hardly  think  I  am  the  one,  and  I  never 
noticed  that  Ferdinand —  Here  she  conies!  To  my 
gtins! 

SCENE  XIV 

VERNON.     GERTRUDE. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — I  have  got  the  letters  and  I'll 
burn  them  at  once  in  my  room.  (She  finds  herself  face 
to  face  with  Vernon. )  Ah ! 

VERNON. — I  have  sent  everybody  away,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE. — And  why  did  you  do  that? 

VERNON. — Because  we  had  to  be  alone  for  an  expla- 
nation. 

GERTRUDE. — An  explanation!  What  do  you  mean, 
sir!  You,  the  parasite  of  this  house,  what  right  have 
you  to  ask  an  explanation  from  the  Comtesse  de  Grand- 
champ? 

VERNON. — I  a  parasite!     Why,  madame,  I  have  a  for- 


98  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

tune  of  ten  thousand  a  year,  besides  my  pension.  I 
rank  as  a  retired  general  and  all  I  possess  I  have  willed 
to  the  children  of  my  old  friend!  I,  a  parasite!  Oh! 
But  I  am  not  here  only  as  a  family  friend,  I  am 
also  a  physician  and — I  saw  you  pour  drops  of  lauda- 
num into  Pauline's  tea. 

GERTRUDE. — You  saw  me ! ! 

VERNON. — I  did  and  I  have  the  cup  in  my  possession. 

GERTRUDE. — You  have  the  cup?     Why,  I  washed  it. 

VERNON. — You  washed  my  cup,  thinking  it  was 
Pauline's.  Oh,  I  was  not  reading  the  paper,  I  was 
watching  you! 

GERTRUDE. — What  an  occupation! 

VERNON. — You  will  have  to  admit  that  the  occupa- 
tion has  its  good  points,  as  you  may  have  to  call  me 
to  your  assistance  if  the  drug  should  have  a  serious 
effect  on  Pauline. 

GERTRUDE.  — Serious  effect?  How  could  it  have  since 
I  poured  a  few  drops  only? 

VERNON. — So  you  acknowledge  that  you  did  put 
opium  in  her  tea? 

GERTRUDE. — Doctor,  you  are  infamous! 

VERNON. — Infamous,  because  I  made  you  confess? 
That's  the  way  women  are  sure  to  speak  in  all  similar 
cases !  I  am  used  to  it.  But  you  had  better  not  stop 
at  the  beginning,  for  you  have  many  more  avowals  to 
make  to  me. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — A  spy!  The  only  thing  I  can  do 
now,  is  to  make  him  my  accomplice.  (Aloud.)  Doc- 
tor, you  can  be  too  useful  to  me  for  me  to  quarrel  with 
you.  In  a  minute,  I  shall  answer  all  your  questions 
with  absolute  frankness.  (She  enters  her  room  and  locks 
the  door  behind  her.} 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  99 

VERNON. — She  pushes  the  bolt — I  am  tricked —  But, 
after  all,  I  could  not  use  violence.  What  is  she  doing 
now?  Hiding  her  opium  bottle,  I  suppose.  It  is 
always  a  sad  mistake  to  attempt  to  render  such  serv- 
ices as  my  old  friend,  the  poor  General,  expects  of  me. 
She'll  fool  me  yet —  Ah,  here  she  comes. 

GKRTRUDE,  aside. — Burned  to  ashes — I  am  saved! 
(Aloud.}  Doctor! 

VERNON. — Madame? 

GERTRUDE. — My  step-daughter,  Pauline,  whom  you 
believe  to  be  such  an  angel  of  candor,  had  managed 
in  a  most  cowardly,  criminal  manner,  to  secure  pos- 
session of  a  secret  upon  which  depended  the  honor, 
the  life,  of  four  people. 

VERNON. — Four  people!  (Aside.)  Herself,  the 
General — ah,  her  son,  perhaps — and  the  unknown  one. 

GERTRUDE. — This  secret,  now,  she  is  forced  to  keep, 
even  if  her  own  life  be  at  stake ! 

VERNON. — I  fail  to  understand! 

GERTRUDE. — Well,  all  evidence  concerning  this 
secret  has  been  destroyed!  And,  you,  doctor,  you 
who  say  you  love  us,  would  be  as  infamous  as  she, 
more  infamous  even, — for  you  are  a  man  and  cannot 
find  an  excuse  in  the  mad  passions  of  a  woman — you 
would  be  nothing  less  than  a  monster  if  you  took  one 
step  more  in  the  direction  you  started  upon  just  now. 

VERNON. — So  you  are  trying  intimidation!  Ah, 
Madame!  Since  human  beings  have  congregated 
together,  nothing  but  crime  has  grown  from  such  seed 
as  you  are  sowing  now ! 

GERTRUDE. — Think  of  it,  doctor,  four  lives  in 
jeopardy!  (Aside.)  He  is  weakening!  (Aloud.) 
Therefore,  strong  in  my  knowledge  of  this  great  dan- 


100  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

ger,  I  tell  you  that  you  are  going  to  help  me  preserve 
peace  in  this  home,  and  that,  in  a  few  minutes,  you 
will  go  out  and  procure  what  is  needed  to  arouse 
Pauline  from  her  present  state.  If  it's  necessary,  you 
even  will  find  some  explanation  to  give  to  the  General 
concerning  Pauline's  sudden  fit  of  sleepiness.  The 
cup,  you  will  return  to  me,  now,  will  you  not?  And 
after  this,  every  step  that  it  is  necessary  to  take  I'll 
explain  to  you  fully — in  advance. 

VERNON. — Madame ! 

GERTRUDE. — Go  now,  go  for  this  awakening  draught. 
The  General  may  return  at  any  moment. 

VERNON,  aside. — I  keep  my  hold  on  you  just  the 
same.  My  weapon  is  here —  (Exit  Vernon.) 


SCENE    XV 

GERTRUDE,  leaning  against  the  closet  in  which  the  cup 
is  locked. — For  heaven's  sake  where  did  he  hide  the 
cup. 

(CURTAIN  ON  THIRD  ACT.) 


FOURTH    ACT 

(The  stage  shows  the  bed-room  of  Pauline,  arranged  as  in  the 
second  tableau  in  the  second  act.} 

SCENE    I 

PAULINE,  asleep  in  a  large  arm-chair  to  the  left. 
GERTRUDE. 

GERTRUDE,  entering  on  tip-toes. — She  is  still  asleep  t 
And  that  doctor  told  me  she  would  awaken  almost  at 
once!  This  sleep  frightens  me!  So  here  lies  the 
woman  he  loves !  I  do  not  find  her  pretty  at  all !  And 
yet — yes,  she  is  beautiful !  How  is  it  men  do  not  under- 
stand that  beauty  is  but  a  promise  and  that  it  takes 
love  to —  (A  knock  at  the  door.}  Ah,  here  is  somebody 
coming. 

VERNON,  from  the  outside. — Pauline,  may  I  come  in? 

GERTRUDE. — It's  the  doctor. 


SCENE   II 

THE  PRECEDING.     VERNON. 

GERTRUDE. — You  told  me  she  would  be  awake  by 
this  time. 

VERNON. — Do  not  worry.      (Calling  out.}     Pauline! 

PAULINE,  opening  her  eyes. — Doctor  Vernon !  Where 
am  I?  Ah,  in  my  room!  How  did  it  happen? 

101 


102  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

VERNON. — My  dear  child,  you  went  to  sleep  while 
drinking  your  tea.  Madame  de  Grandchamp  was  a 
little  afraid,  as  I  was  myself,  that  it  might  prove  the 
beginning  of  some  indisposition ;  happily,  there  does 
not  seem  to  be  anything  the  matter  with  you  and  you 
have  merely  suffered  the  consequences  of  a  sleepless 
night. 

GERTRUDE. — And  now,  Pauline,  how  do  you  feel? 

PAULINE. — I  feel  sleepy!  And  Madame  was  here 
while  I  slept?  (She  rises  in  the  greatest  excitement.) 
Ah!  (She presses  her  hand  upon  her  bosom.)  Ah!  This 
is  infamous!  (To  Vernon.)  Doctor,  is  it  possible  that 
you  could  be  the  accomplice — 

GERTRUDE. — The  accomplice  of  whom?  What  were 
you  going  to  say? 

VERNON. — I,  child,  I,  the  accomplice  of  any  evil- 
doer, and  against  you  whom  I  love  as  I  would  my  own 
daughter!  You  can't  mean  it!  Now,  tell  me — 

PAULINE. — Nothing,  doctor,  I  have  nothing  to  tell. 

GERTRUDE. — Please,  let  me  say  a  few  words  to  her  in 
private. 

VERNON,  aside. — What  can  be  the  reason  that  pre- 
vents this  young  girl  from  speaking  out,  after  being 
the  victim  of  such  a  plot?  (The  two  women  talk 
together  a  few  steps  from  Vernon.) 

GERTRUDE. — Now,  Pauline,  you  have  no  longer  in 
your  possession  the  proofs  of  the  foolish  accusation 
you  proposed  to  bring  against  me  before  your  father! 

PAULINE. — I  understand  all!  You  have  drugged  me 
to  rob  me ! 

GERTRUDE. — Each  of  us  is  as  inquisitive  as  the  other. 
I  have  done  to  you  just  what  you  did  in  Ferdinand's 
rooms. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  103 

PAULINE. — You  are  triumphing  now,  Madame,  but  it 
will  soon  be  my  turn ! 

GERTRUDE. — So,  the  war  is  to  go  on,  is  it? 

PAULINE. — War!  Say  the  duel  to  a  finish,  Madame! 
There  is  one  too  many  of  us  two  on  this  earth. 

GERTRUDE. — You  are  melodramatic,  my  dear. 

VERNON,  aside. — There  is  no  explosion —  Appar- 
ently no  disagreement!  Why  should  I  not  go  for 
Ferdinand.  (He  takes  a  step  to  the  door.) 

GERTRUDE. Doctor? 

VERNON. — Madame? 

GERTRUDE. — We  must  have  a  talk  together.  (In  a 
low  voice. )  I  will  not  leave  you  until  you  have  returned 
to  me — 

VERNON. — You  know  my  condition — 

PAULINE. — Doctor? 

VERNON,  going  to  her  side. — What  is  it,  child? 

PAULINE. — Don't  you  know  that  my  sleep  just  now 
was  not  a  natural  one? 

VERNON. — I  know  it;  you  were  put  to  sleep  by  your 
step-mother ;  I  have  the  proof  of  it.  And  you,  do  you 
suspect  why  she  did  it. 

PAULINE. — Certainly,  doctor,  it  is  because — 

GERTRUDE,  from  the  door,  where  she  has  been  waiting  for 
Vernon. — Well,  doctor — 

PAULINE. — Later,  I  shall  tell  you  everything. 

VERNON,  aside. — From  one  or  the  other  I  am  pretty 
sure  to  soon  know  all —  Ah,  my  poor  General ! 

GERTRUDE. — Are  you  not  coming,  doctor?  (He  bows 
and  they  both  walk  out.) 


104  THE  STEP-MOTHER 


SCENE   III 

PAULINE,  she  goes  to  the  bell  rope  and  pulls  it. — Yes, 
all  that  remains  for  me  to  do  is  to  flee  with  him.  If 
we  keep  on  fighting  as  we  are  now  doing,  my  step- 
mother and  I,  my  poor  father's  honor  soon  will  be 
gone!  Is  it  not  a  hundred  times  better  to  disobey 
him.  Besides,  I'll  write  him  some  sort  of  an  explana- 
tion. I  shall  be  generous,  since,  after  all,  I  shall  be 
triumphing  over  her —  I  will  leave  my  father's  belief 
in  her  unsullied,  and  my  reason  for  taking  to  flight 
will  be  his  hatred  against  the  name  of  Marcandal  and 
my  love  for  Ferdinand — 


SCENE   IV 

PAULINE.     MARGUERITE. 

MARGUERITE. — Is  Mademoiselle  well  again? 

PAULINE. — Yes,  well  in  body  but  not  in  mind.  Oh, 
I  am  desperate!  My  poor  old  Marguerite,  how  ter- 
rible it  is  for  a  girl  to  be  left  without  a  mother ! 

MARGUERITE. — Especially  if  her  father  takes  for  his 
second  wife  a  woman  like  the  present  Madame  de 
Grandchamp.  But,  tell  me,  Mademoiselle,  have  I 
not  been  to  you  a  devoted,  though  a  humble,  mother? 
Indeed,  my  love  as  your  nurse  since  your  babyhood 
has  been  rendered  twice  as  strong  by  the  hatred 
your  step-mother  has  harbored  against  you. 

PAULINE. — Oh,  no,  Marguerite,  you  can't  love  me  so 
deeply!  You  think  so,  perhaps,  but — 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  105 

MARGUERITE. — Oh,  Mademoiselle,  put  me  to  the  test! 

PAULINE. — Let  me  see  now —  Would  you  leave 
France  with  me? 

MARGUERITE. — I'd  follow  you  to  the  Indies ! 

PAULINE. — And  at  once? 

MARGUERITE. — At  once —  Ah,  my  baggage  does  not 
amount  to  much ! 

PAULINE. — Well,  if  it  be  so,  Marguerite,  we  shall 
leave  to-night,  and  secretly. 

MARGUERITE. — We  shall  leave?     And  why? 

PAULINE. — Why?  Don't  you  know  that  Madame  de 
Grandchamp  drugged  me  to  sleep  an  hour  ago? 

MARGUERITE. — Yes,  I  knew  it,  and  so  did  Doctor 
Vernon ;  for  Felix  told  me  that  he  had  locked  up  the 
cup  in  which  you  had  drunk  your  tea.  But  why 
should  she  do  such  a  thing? 

PAULINE. — Not  a  word  more  about  it,  if  you  love 
me —  And  if  you  are  really  as  devoted  as  you  say  you 
are,  go  now  to  your  room  and  gather  up  all  your 
belongings;  don't  let  anybody  have  the  least  suspicion 
that  you  are  preparing  to  leave.  We  shall  go  shortly 
after  midnight.  You  will  take  from  here  to  your  room 
my  jewels  and  such  things  as  I  may  need  during  a 
long  journey.  Be  clever  and  cautious  about  it;  for,  if 
my  step-mother  gets  the  slightest  inkling  of  my  inten- 
tions, I  am  lost. 

MARGUERITE. — Lost !  In  the  name  of  heaven, 
Mademoiselle,  what  is  happening  in  this  house  that 
you  should  be  compelled  to  leave  it  in  this  way? 

PAULINE. — Do  you  want  to  see  me  die? 

MARGUERITE. — Die!  You  die!  Oh,  Mademoiselle, 
I  will  do  anything  you  say. 

PAULINE,-— Now,  you  must  go  to  Monsieur  Ferdinand 


io6  THE    STEP-MOTHER 

and  tell  him  to  bring  me  my  income  for  the  year ;  I 
must  see  him  at  once. 

MARGUERITE. — He  was  walking  under  your  windows 
when  I  came  in. 

PAULINE,  aside. — Under  my  windows!  He  thought 
he  would  never  see  me  again !  Poor  Ferdinand ! 


SCENE   V 

PAULINE,  alone. — So  I  am  going  to  leave  the  paternal 
roof —  I  know  my  father —  For  a  long  time,  he  will 
search  for  me,  the  world  over —  What  treasures  does 
love  offer  us  that  can  pay  for  such  sacrifices?  For  I 
give  up  everything  for  Ferdinand's  sake — my  country, 
my  father,  my  home —  But  then,  this  wicked  woman 
will  have  lost  him  forever!  Besides,  I  shall  come 
back!  The  doctor  and  Monsieur  Ramel  will  secure 
forgiveness  for  us —  Isn't  that  Ferdinand's  step? 
Yes,  yes,  it  is ! 

SCENE   VI 

PAULINE.     FERDINAND. 

PAULINE. — Oh,  my  precious  one,  my  Ferdinand! 

FERDINAND. — And  I,  who  thought  never  to  see  you 
again!  So,  Marguerite  knows  all? 

PAULINE. — She  knows  nothing  yet,  but  to-night  she 
will  find  out  that  we  are  taking  our  flight  together, 
you  and  I.  For  you  shall  take  away  your  wife  with 
you! 

FERDINAND. — Oh,  Pauline,  do  not  deceive  me ! 

PAULINE. — I  had  decided  in  any  case  to  join  you  wher- 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  107 

ever  exile  should  take  you ;  this  odious  womati  simply 
hastened  the  execution  of  my  plans.  And  there  is 
no  merit  in  my  doing  so,  Ferdinand;  my  life  is  in 
danger. 

FERDINAND. — Your  life!     What  did  she  dare  do? 

PAULINE. — She  almost  killed  me,  this  morning  by 
drugging  me  to  sleep,  so  as  to  gain  possession  of  her 
letters  which  I  had  secreted  upon  my  person !  From 
what  she  has  dared,  already,  in  her  determination  to 
keep  you  for  her  own,  judge  of  what  she  is  capable ! 
Therefore,  if  we  are  ever  to  belong  to  one  another,  our 
last  resort  is  flight.  No  more  good-bys  then.  To-night 
we  shall  be  numbered  among  exiles —  Where  we 
shall  go,  is  for  you  to  decide. 

FERDINAND. — I  feel  beside  myself  with  joy! 

PAULINE. — But,  O  my  Ferdinand! — Neglect  no  pre- 
caution; first  of  all,  drive  right  away  to  Louviers 
and  see  your  friend,  the  Public  Prosecutor,  about  the 
passports ;  also  order  a  post-chaise  and  fast  horses,  so 
that  my  father,  urged  by  this  wicked  step-mother  of 
mine,  will  be  unable  to  capture  us  in  our  flight :  he 
would  kill  us  both,  for,  in  the  letter  I  shall  leave  I 
shall  tell  him  the  fatal  secret  of  your  birth  and  say 
that  it  forces  us  to  have  recourse  to  flight. 

FERDINAND. — Have  no  anxiety.  Eugene  Ramel  has 
been  busy  since  yesterday  making  everything  ready 
for  my  departure.  I  have  here  the  amount  your 
father  owed  me.  (He  shows  her  a  pocket-book.}  Here 
are  also  funds  that  belong  to  you  out  of  your  regular 
income.  Just  sign  me  a  receipt  that  I  may  turn  it 
in  with  my  final  accounts.  (He places  on  the  table,  a  feiv 
rolls  of  aold  napoleons.)  Leaving  at  midnight,  we  shall 
reach  Rouen  at  three  in  the  morning  and  Havre  in 


io8  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

good  time  to  get  on  board  a  fast  American  packet 
which  is  announced  to  start  to-morrow.  Ramel  has 
dispatched  a  confidential  agent  ahead  to  secure  pas- 
sage accommodation  for  me.  Nobody  on  board  will 
find  it  strange  that  at  the  last  minute  I  should  have 
decided  to  take  my  wife  with  me  across  the  water. 
So,  you  see,  there  is  no  obstacle — 


SCENE  VII 

THE  PRECEDING.     GERTRUDE. 

GERTRUDE. — And  what  of  me? 

PAULINE. — We  are  lost! 

GERTRUDE. — So,  you  were  going  to  leave  without  a 
word  to  me,  Ferdinand?  Oh,  no  use  denying — I  heard 
everything? 

FERDINAND,  to  Pauline. — Will  you  kindly  give  me 
your  receipt,  Mademoiselle;  I  need  it  to  close  my 
accounts  with  the  General  before  leaving.  (To  Ger- 
trude.) Madame,  you  may,  perhaps,  prevent  Made- 
moiselle's departure,  but  you  certainly  can  do  nothing 
to  prevent  mine.  So,  go  I  will,  and  to-day. 

GERTRUDE. — No,  sir,  you  shall  stay. 

FERDINAND. — Against  my  will? 

GERTRUDE. — What  Mademoiselle,  here,  was  planning 
to  do,  I  will  do  myself,  and  fearlessly!  I  am  going 
to  send,  this  instant,  for  Monsieur  de  Grandchamp, 
and  you  will  soon  find  out  that  you  shall  be  compelled 
to  leave  this  place,  but  with  me  and  my  child.  (She 
has  rung  the  bell;  Felix  appears  in  answer  to  it.}  Please 
ask  Monsieur  de  Grandchamp  to  be  kind  enough  to 
come  to  this  room. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  109 

FERDINAND,  to  Pauline. — I  see  what  she  wants  to  do. 
Keep  her  here  while  I  prevent  Felix  from  reaching 
the  General.  Ramel  will  tell  you  how  to  act.  Once 
we  are  away  from  Louviers,  Gertrude  can  do  nothing 
against  us.  (To  Gertrude.)  Good-by,  Madame;  your 
attempt  against  Pauline's  life  has  torn  asunder  the 
last  bonds  between  us. 

GERTRUDE. — You  are  always  accusing  me  of  some- 
thing or  other —  But  you  don't  know  that  this  young 
lady  was  about  to  reveal  to  her  father  everything 
about  you  and  me? 

FERDINAND. — I  love  her  and  will  love  her  all  my 
life —  I  will  find  means  of  defending  her  against  you, 
and  I  trust  her  enough  to  leave  the  country  for  her 
sake !  Good-by ! 

PAULINE. — Oh,  dear,  dear,  Ferdinand! 


SCENE   VIII 

GERTRUDE.      PAULINE. 

GERTRUDE. — Now  that  we  are  alone,  do  you  want  me 
to  tell  you  why  I  have  sent  for  your  father?  Listen — 
I  am  going  to  tell  him  all  about  the  name  and  the  par- 
entage of  Ferdinand! 

PAULINE. — Oh,  Madame,  you  cannot  do  such  a 
thing?  As  soon  as  my  father  is  informed  that  the 
man  who  has  gained  his  daughter's  love  is  General 
Marcandal's  son,  he  will  start  at  once  for  Havre  and 
get  there  as  soon  as  Ferdinand ;  and  then — 

GERTRUDE. — I  prefer  Ferdinand  dead  to  seeing  him 
belong  to  any  other  woman,  especially  when  I  feel  for 


no  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

that  other  a  hatred  equal  in  strength  to  my  love  for 
him.  This  is  the  final  incident  of  our  duel,  Made- 
moiselle. 

PAULINE,  falling  on  her  knees  as  she  begins  to  plead. — 
Oh,  Madame,  I  am  now  down  on  my  knees  before 
you,  just  as  you  were  before  me  yesterday —  Let  us 
kill  each  other,  if  you  so  decide,  but  don't  let  us  mur- 
der him!  My  life,  my  life  I  offer  in  exchange  for 
his! 

GERTRUDE. — You  give  him  up  then? 

PAULINE. — Yes,  Madame,  I  give  him  up. 

GERTRUDE,  as  she  speaks,  her  handkerchief  drops  from 
her  hand. — You  are  deceiving  me !  You  speak  this  way 
because  he  loves  you;  because  he  insulted  me  a  few 
minutes  ago  by  confessing  this  love;  because  you 
think  he  never  will  be  mine  again —  Pauline,  Pauline, 
I  must  have  more  than  your  word,  I  must  have  a 
pledge  of  your  sincerity ! 

PAULINE,  aside. — Her  handkerchief  has  dropped — 
In  a  corner  of  it  she  keeps  the  key  of  her  desk — 
and  the  poison  is  there —  (Aloud.)  Pledge —  You 
want  a  pledge?  I'll  do  anything  you  say —  What  is 
it  to  be? 

GERTRUDE. — I  know  of  only  one  absolutely  convinc- 
ing proof—  You  must  marry  another  man ! 

PAULINE. — I  will  marry  another  man. 

GERTRUDE. — And  pledge  your  word  to  him  at  once? 

PAULINE. — You  mean  Godard?  Well,  you  may 
notify  him  immediately  of  my  willingness.  Madame, 
bring  my  father  here  and  I  will — 

GERTRUDE. YOU  Will 

PAULINE. — Give  my  word  then  and  there.  It  will 
be  like  giving  my  life. 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  in 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — How  resolutely  she  speaks  out, 
and  without  a  tear —  She  must  be  keeping  something 
back.  (Aloud.)  So,  you  are  resigned? 

PAULINE. — I  am. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — I'll  test  her.  (Aloud.)  If  you 
speak  the  truth — 

PAULINE. — You  are  deceit  itself  and  always  think 
others  are  lying —  Ah,  go  from  me,  Madame!  You 
disgust  me! 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — Ah,  now  she  is  sincere!  (Aloud.) 
I  am  going  to  notify  Ferdinand  of  the  resolution  you 
have  just  taken.  (Pauline  nods  her  assent.)  But  he 
may  not  believe  me —  You  had  better  write  him  a 
few  words  yourself. 

PAULINE. — To  tell  him  to  stay —  (She  scribbles  a  few 
lines  on  the  table.)  Here  they  are,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE,  reading. — "I  have  decided  to  marry 
Monsieur  de  Rimonville —  Therefore  you  may 
remain.  Pauline."  (Aside.)  I  can't  understand  her 
— I  am  afraid  of  a  trap — I  had  better  let  him  leave 
and  notify  him  of  this  marriage  when  he  will  be  far 
from  here.  (Exit  Gertrude.) 


SCENE   IX 

PAULINE,  alone. — Yes,  yes,  I  see  it  now,  Ferdinand  is 
lost  to  me!  I  always  felt  it  would  be  so —  Life  is 
either  a  paradise  or  a  prison —  I,  a  young  girl,  dreamt 
of  paradise!  Well,  anyway,  I  have  the  key  of  her 
desk  and  can  easily  return  it  after  securing  what  poison 
I  need  to  escape  from  this  horrible  position!  I'll  do  it 
at  once. 


H2  THE   STEP-MOTHER 


SCENE   X 

PAULINE.     MARGUERITE. 

MARGUERITE. — Mademoiselle,  your  trunks  are  all 
packed.  I'll  begin  here  now. 

PAULINE. — That's  all  right.  (Aside.)  I  shall  have 
to  let  her  go  on.  (Aloud.)  Here,  Marguerite,  take 
this  gold  to  your  room  and  hide  it  there. 

MARGUERITE. — Are  your  reasons  for  going  so  very 
strong,  Mademoiselle? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  my  poor  Marguerite,  if  I  ""were  only 
sure  to  go!  Still — you  had  better  proceed.  (Exit 
Pauline.) 

SCENE   XI 

MARGUERITE,  alone. — And  I  imagined  that  the  wicked 
woman  would  not  allow  Mademoiselle  to  marry!  Has 
the  dear  child  kept  from  me  some  love  affair  opposed 
by  her  father?  He  is  so  fond  of  her  and  professes  to 
leave  her  free  to  choose —  Ought  I  not  to  speak  to 
him?  No,  I  can't  do  it;  my  child  might  be  the 
sufferer. 

SCENE   XII 
PAULINE.     MARGUERITE. 

PAULINE,  aside. — Nobody  saw  me  take  it —  (Aloud.) 
Don't  forget  the  money,  Marguerite.  Then,  leave  me 
to  think  of  what  I  must  do. 

MARGUERITE. — In  your  place,  Mademoiselle,  I  would 
go  and  tell  everything  to  Monsieur. 

PAULINE. — Tell  everything  to  my  father!      Oh,  for 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  113 

heaven's  sake,  do  not  betray  me!     Let  us  respect  the 
illusions  he  lives  under ! 

MARGUERITE. — Illusions !     Yes,  that's  the  right  word! 

PAULINE. — Now,  go,  dear,  go! 


SCENE   XIII 

PAULINE.     Later  VERNON. 

PAULINE,  holding  in  her  hand  .a  small  package. — So, 
this  is  death !  Doctor  Vernon  told  us  yesterday,  when 
talking  of  Champagne's  wife,  that  it  took  this  terrible 
drug  several  hours,  sometimes  a  whole  night,  to  do  its 
work  and  that,  at  first,  it  can  be  fought  against  suc- 
cessfully. Now,  if  the  doctor  is  in  our  house  during 
the  next  few  hours,  he'll  fight  the  poison  and  prob- 
ably—  (A  Tcnock  at  the  door.}  Who  is  there? 

VERNON,  from  the  outside. — It  is  I. 

PAULINE. — Come  in,  doctor.*  (Aside.)  Curiosity 
brings  him  here,  curiosity  will  send  him  away. 

VERNON. — My  dear  child,  is  it  true  that  there  are 
between  you  and  your  step-mother  life  and  death 
secrets? 

PAULINE. — Yes,  death  secrets. 

VERNON. — Well  then  I  am  right  in  my  element. 
Tell  me  now,  have  you  not  had  recently  some  violent 
quarrel  with  Madame  de  Grandcamp? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  do  not  speak  to  me  of  this  wicked 
creature !  She  deceives  my  father  shamefully ! 

VERNON. — I  know  it. 

PAULINE. — She  never  loved  him. 

VERNON. — I  was  sure  of  it. 


114  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

PAULINE. — She  has  sworn  to  ruin  me. 

VERNON. — Does  she  want  to  break  your  heart? 

PAULINE. — Perhaps  she  is  after  my  life! 

VERNON. — Oh,  my  poor  child,  what  a  suspicion!  But 
I  love  you,  dear  Pauline,  and  if  you  are  right,  I'll  save 
you. 

PAULINE. — For  me  to  be  saved,  my  father  would 
have  to  have  radically  different  opinions.  Listen  now, 
I  love  Monsieur  Ferdinand. 

VERNON. — This  also,  I  know.  But  what  prevents 
you  from  marrying  him? 

PAULINE. — You'll  keep  our  secret,  will  you?  He  is 
the  son  of  General  Marcandal ! 

VERNON. — Good  God!  Is  it  possible!  Oh,  you  may 
be  sure  that  I  will  keep  that  secret —  Why,  your  father 
would  fight  a  duel  to  the  death  with  him,  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  he  has  lived  under  his  roof  for  three 
years. 

PAULINE. — Now,  you  see,  there  is  no  hope.  (She 
drops  into  an  arm-chair,  as  if  absolutely  crushed. ) 

VERNON. — Poor  girl!  Poor  girl!  I  am  afraid  of 
hysterics!  (He  pulls  the  bell  and  calls  out  at  the  same 
time.)  Marguerite,  Marguerite! 


SCENE    XIV 

THE  PRECEDING.     GERTRUDE.     MARGUERITE. 
THE  GENERAL. 

MARGUERITE,  rushing  in. — What  do  you  want,  sir? 
VERNON. — Bring  in  a  tea-pot  of  boiling- water  and 
prepare  an  infusion  of  orange  leaves. 


THE    STEP-MOTHER  115 

GERTRUDE. — What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Pauline? 

THE  GENERAL. — My  daughter!     My  darling  child! 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  it's  nothing  serious — I  understand 
it  all —  It  comes  from  the  emotion  of  deciding  her 
life's  future. 

VERNON,  to  the  General. — Her  life's  future —  And 
what  is  it  to  be? 

THE  GENERAL. — She  is  to  marry  Godard.  (Aside  to 
Vernon.)  My  wife  just  told  me  that  she  had  given  up 
at  last  some  love  she  entertained  for  a  fellow  whose 
rascality  she  discovered  only  a  few  hours  ago. 

VERNON. — And  you  believe  that  story?  Do  not  hurry 
things,  General.  We  shall  look  into  the  matter 
quietly,  to-night.  (Aside.)  Before  that  time,  I  shall 
have  spoken  to  Madame  de  Grandchamp,  privately. 

PAULINE,  to  Gertrude. — The  doctor  knows  every- 
thing— 

GERTRUDE. Ah  ! 

PAULINE,  placing  the  handkerchief  containing  the  key 
in  Gertrude's  pocket  without  the  latter  noticing  it. — Find 
some  means  to  get  him  away,  or  he  will  tell  my  father 
all  about  Ferdinand  and  we  are  bound  to  save  him,  at 
any  cost. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — She  is  right.  (Aloud.)  Doctor, 
I  have  just  been  told  that  Frangois,  one  of  our  best 
workmen,  was  taken  seriously  ill  yesterday.  He  is 
not  able  to  get  up.  Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  go 
and  see  what  is  the  matter  with  him? 

THE  GENERAL. — Did  you  say  Francois?  Oh,  do  go  to 
him,  Vernon. 

VERNON.— Does  he  not  live  at  Pre-1'Eveque? 
(Aside.)  More  than  three  leagues  from  here — 

THE  GENERAL. — You  are  not  anxious  about  Pauline? 


n6  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

VERNON. — No,  it's  just  a  spell  of  old-fashioned  hys- 
terics. 

GERTRUDE. — Then,  doctor,  you  think  it  perfectly  safe 
that  I  should  take  your  place  by  her  side? 

VERNON. — Yes,  Madame,  I  do.  (To  the  General.) 
I'll  wager  that  Francois  is  no  sicker  than  I  am  now. 
Some  one  thinks  me  too  clear-sighted  and  wants  me 
out  of  the  way. 

THE  GENERAL,  growing  angry. — Some  one?  Who, 
some  one?  What  do  you  mean? 

VERNON. — Are  you  going  to  get  mad  again?  Now, 
hold  yourself  in  check,  General,  or  you  will  cause  your- 
self life-long  remorse. 

THE  GENERAL. — Remorse? 

VERNON. — Never  mind  about  this  now.  Just  keep 
things  as  they  are  until  I  return. 

THE  GENERAL. — But — 

GERTRUDE,  to  Pauline,  who  is  coming  to. — Well,  well, 
and  how  are  you  feeling  now,  darling. 

THE  GENERAL,  to  Vernon. — Just  look  at  them. 

VERNON. — Oh,  women  will  commit  murder  under 
cover  of  a  kiss. 


SCENE    XV 

THE  PRECEDING  minus  VERNON.     Later  MARGUERITE. 

GERTRUDE,  to  the  General  who  stands  there,  bewildered, 
after  the  last  words  of  Vernon. — Well,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you? 

THE  GENERAL,  crossing  over  to  Pauline. — Nothing, 
nothing  is  the  matter.  Now,  tell  me,  my  own  little 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  117 

Pauline,  do  you  really  accept  Godard  out  of  your  free 
will? 

PAULINE. — I  do.     Freely  and  willingly. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — Ah! 

THE  GENERAL. — He  is  coming  in  directly. 

PAULINE. — I  await  him. 

THE  GENERAL,  aside. — There  is  much  disappoint- 
ment in  those  words.  (Marguerite  enters,  a  cup  in  her 
hand.) 

GERTRUDE. — It  is  too  soon,  Marguerite.  The  infusion 
won't  be  strong  enough.  (She  tastes  the  tea.)  I'll  fix 
this  myself. 

MARGUERITE. — I  thought  I  used  to  take  proper  care 
of  Mademoiselle. 

GERTRUDE. — What  do  you  mean  by  such  language? 

MARGUERITE. — But —     Madame — 

THE  GENERAL. — Marguerite,  one  word  more  like  this, 
and  we  shall  have  to  quarrel,  my  dear  old  woman — 

PAULINE. — Marguerite,  you  had  better  do  what 
Madame  de  Grandchamp  tells  you.  (Marguerite  goes 
out  ivith  Gertrude.} 

THE  GENERAL. — So,  you  refuse  to  give  your  full  con- 
fidence to  a  father  who  loves  you  so  dearly?  I  only 
want  you  to  tell  me  why  you  accept  Godard  to-day 
after  refusing  his  offer  so  positively  yesterday? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  it's  just  a  young  girl's  changeable 
mind. 

THE  GENERAL. — You  are  not  in  love  with  any  one 
else? 

PAULINE. — It  is  just  because  I  am  not  in  love  with 
anybody  else  that  I  am  ready  to  marry  your  Monsieur 
Godard.  (Gertrude  and  Marguerite  return.) 

THE  GENERAL. Ah! 


u8  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

GERTRUDE.— Here  is  your  infusion,  my  dear  girl; 
take  care  when  you  drink  it,  it's  burning  hot. 

PAULINE. — Thank  you,  mother. 

THE  GENERAL.— Mother?  Why,  it's  enough  to  make 
one  crazy! 

PAULINE. — Marguerite,  the  sugar  -  bowl,  please. 
(  While  Marguerite  is  out  of  the  room  and  Gertrude  talking 
at  one  side  with  the  General,  she  drops  the  poison  in  the 
cup,  and  the  paper  the  powder  was  in  falls,  unnoticed,  on 
the  floor. ) 

GERTRUDE,  to  her  husband. — What  is  the  matter? 

THE  GENERAL. — My  dear,  I  am  like  Godard,  I  cannot 
read  women.  (Marguerite  returns.) 

GERTRUDE. — Oh,  you  are  like  all  men! 

PAULINE,  after  drinking  hurriedly  the  poisoned  cup. — 
Ah! 

THE  GENERAL. — What  is  it,  child? 

PAULINE. — Nothing ! — Nothing ! 

GERTRUDE. — I'll  make  you  another  cup. 

PAULINE. — No,  thank  you,  Madame.  We  had  better 
await  the  doctor's  return.  (She  places  the  empty  cup  on 
the  small  table.) 


SCENE   XVI 

THE  PRECEDING.     FELIX.     Later  GODARD. 

FELIX. — Monsieur  Godard  asks  if  he  may  come  in? 
(They  look  questioningly  at  Pauline  who  nods  affirmatively. ) 
PAULINE. — Certainly  he  may. 
GERTRUDE. — What  are  you  going  to  tell  him? 
PAULINE. — Just  wait  and  listen. 
GODARD,  entering. — Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  to  hear  that 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  119 

Mademoiselle  is  not  quite  well !  I  will  not  intrude — 
(A  seat  is  pointed  out  to  him.)  Then,  allow  me  to  thank 
you  for  thus  admitting  me  within  this  sanctuary  of 
innocence.  Mademoiselle,  Madame  de  Grandchamp 
and  your  kind  father  have  just  informed  me  of  a 
decision  that  would  have  filled  me  with  rapture  had  it 
been  reached  yesterday,  but,  to-day,  I  confess,  it 
rather  surprises  me. 

THE  GENERAL. — What  is  that  you  are  saying,  Mon- 
sieur Godard? 

PAULINE. — Do  not  feel  vexed,  my  clear  father;  the 
gentleman  is  right.  You  do  not  know  all  I  told  him 
yesterday. 

GODARD. — You  are  much  too  clever,  Mademoiselle, 
not  to  consider  as  very  natural  the  curiosity  of  an 
honest  young  fellow  endowed  with  forty  thousand- a- 
year  plus  his  savings,  who  would  like  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  reasons  that  lead  you  to  accept  him 
twenty-four  hours  after  a  positive  refusal.  For, 
(pulling  out  his  watcli  and  looking  at  it)  it  was  at  this 
very  same  hour — half-past  five — that  you — 

THE  GENERAL. — What  are  you  talking  about?  You 
claim  to  be  deeply  in  love  and  you  begin  to  scold  an 
adorable  young  girl,  at  the  very  moment  when — 

GODARD. — I  should  certainly  not  act  in  this  wise,  if 
it  were  not  a  question  of  marriage.  But,  as  you  well 
know,  General,  marriage  is  a  mixture  of  business  and 
sentiment. 

PAULINE,  to  Godard. — Sir* —  (Aside.)  Oh,  how  I 
suffer!  (Aloud.)  Why,  sir,  you  must  know  that  we, 
poor  young  girls — 

GODARD. — Poor!  You  are  not  poof,  Mademoiselle. 
You  are  worth  four  hundred  thousand  francs. 


120  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

PAULINE.— I'll  say  then,— weak  young  creatures— 

GODARD.  — Why  weak? 

PAULINE. — Let  us  say  innocent  young  maidens,  then. 
Why  should  we  not  like  to  discover  something  of  the 
temper  of  the  man  who  wants  to  become  our  lord  and 
master?  If  you  truly  love  me,  will  you  punish  your- 
self, will  you  punish  me,  because  I  have  ventured  to 
test  you? 

GODARD.— Oh,  of  course,  if  it  was  meant  that  way! 

THE  GENERAL. — O  Women !     Women! 

GODARD. — You  may  exclaim  just  as  correctly:  O 
Maidens !  Maidens ! 

THE  GENERAL. — Any  way,  this  proves  that  my  daugh- 
ter is  cleverer  than  her  father. 


SCENE    XVII 

THE  PRECEDING.     GERTRUDE.     NAPOLEON. 

GERTRUDE. — Well,  Monsieur  Godard? 

GODARD. — Ah,  Madame!  Ah,  General!  I  am 
delighted !  My  dream  is  realized !  To  enter  a  family 
like  yours!  I,  so  unworthy!  Ah,  Madame!  Ah, 
General!  Ah,  Mademoiselle!  (Aside.)  There  is  a 
mystery  not  yet  unfolded,  for  she  does  not  love  me ! 
I  will  penetrate  it. 

NAPOLEON,  running  in. — I  have  the  medal,  this  week. 
Good  afternoon,  mamma.  Where  is  Pauline?  (He 
discovers  her  on  the  arm-chair.)  Are  you  sick,  poor 
little  sister?  I  say,  tell  me,  where  does  justice  come 
from? 

GERTRUDE. — Who  has  been  speaking  to  you  about 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  12 1 

this?  You  naughty  boy,  how  you  have  mussed  your 
clothes ! 

NAPOLEON. — Teacher  spoke  about  it.  He  said,  jus- 
tice came  from  God. 

GODARD. — I  don't  believe  your  teacher  is  from  Nor- 
mandy. 

PAULINE,  in  a  low  voice  to  Marguerite. — Oh,  Mar- 
guerite !  Dear  Marguerite !  Do  manage  to  get  them 
out  of  the  room ! 

MARGUERITE. — Gentlemen,  I  think  Mademoiselle 
needs  rest. 

THE  GENERAL. — Well,  then,  we'll  leave  you,  Pauline. 
I  hope  you  will  feel  like  coming  to  the  dinner-table, 
by  and  by. 

PAULINE. — I  will,  if  I  can.  Father,  won't  you  kiss 
me? 

THE  GENERAL,  kissing  her. — Oh,  you  darling  child! 
(To  Napoleon.)  Come,  little  one.  (They  all  leave  the 
room  except  Pauline,  Marguerite  and  Napoleon.) 

NAPOLEON,  to  Pauline. — And  me!  you  are  not  kiss- 
ing me?  What's  the  matter? 

PAULINE. — Oh,  I  am  dying! 

NAPOLEON. — Who  is  dying?  Pauline,  tell  me,  what 
does  death  look  like? 

PAULINE. — Death — it — looks — like — this !  (She  faints 
away  in  Marguerite"1  s  arms.) 

MARGUERITE. — Oh,  my  God !     Help!     Help! 

NAPOLEON. — O  Pauline!  You  frighten  me!  (He 
runs  out  of  the  room,  crying.)  Mamma!  Mamma! 

(CURTAIN  ON  FOURTH  ACT.) 


FIFTH   ACT 
(The  stage  setting  is  unchanged.) 

SCENE     I 
PAULINE.     FERDINAND.     VERNON. 

(Pauline  lies  upon  her  bed.  Ferdinand  holds  her  hand 
in  an  attitude  of  profound  grief  and  absolute  despair.  It 
is  just  before  dawn  ;  a  lamp  is  still  burning  in  the  room.) 

VERNON,  seated  near  the  little  round  table. — I  have  seen 
thousands  of  dead  on  battlefields  and  in  flying  hos- 
pitals; yet  the  death  of  this  young  girl  under  her 
father's  roof  moves  me  a  hundred-fold  more  than  all 
these  sufferings  borne  so  heroically.  In  war,  death 
is  foreseen,  almost  expected ;  while  here,  it  is  not  only 
a  human  existence  that  vanishes,  but  a  whole  family 
plunged  into  grief  and  precious  hopes  scattered  to  the 
winds.  To  see  this  child,  I  love  so  dearly,  murdered — 
poisoned — and  by  whom?  Marguerite  did  solve  the 
riddle  of  this  struggle  between  the  two  rivals.  I  felt 
it  my  sworn  duty  to  go  and  reveal  everything  to  the 
Public  Prosecutor.  And  God  knows  that  I  did  all  that 
was  humanly  possible  to  snatch  this  life  from  the 
grasp  of  death.  (Ferdinand  lifts  his  head  and  listens  to 
Vernon.)  I  have  even  procured  this  violent  poison 
that  is  known  to  counteract  the  effects  of  the  drug 
that  is  killing  her.  But  I  dare  not  administer  it  in  the 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  123 

absence  of  some  of  those  lights  of  the  medical  world 
to  whom  such  daring  experiments  are  permitted. 
Alone,  one  cannot  risk  such  a  throw  of  the  dice! 

FERDINAND,  he  rises  and  walks  to  the  doctors  side. — 
Doctor,  as  soon  as  the  prosecuting  magistrates  arrive, 
tell  them  about  this  drug ;  they  will  surely  sanction 
the  experiment.  And  God,  yes,  God,  will  listen  to 
me —  By  some  miracle  he  will  give  her  back  to  me! 

VERNON. — I  would  have  acted  alone,  if  the  poison 
had  not  gone  so  far.  Now,  I  might  be  taken  for  the 
poisoner.  No,  dear  friend,  this  (he  pulls  out  a  small 
phial  from  his  pocket  and  places  it  on  the  table  absent- 
mindedly}  is  of  no  use  now  and  my  desperate  effort 
would  only  make  me  out  a  criminal. 

FERDINAND,  placing  a  mirror  before  Pauline's  lips. — 
But  everything  is  not  lost  yet —  She  is  still  breath- 
ing— 

VERNON. — She  will  not  see  the  rising  day. 

PAULINE. — Ferdinand ! 

FERDINAND. — She  just  uttered  my  name. 

VERNON. — Oh,  a  twenty- two  year  old  girl  is  strong 
in  her  struggle  against  destruction.  Besides,  she  will 
preserve  her  intelligence  to  the  last  breath.  She  may 
even  rise,  walk  about  and  speak,  in  spite  of  the  ter- 
rible sufferings  caused  by  the  poison. 


SCENE  II 
THE  PRECEDING.     THE  GENERAL,  at  first,  outside. 


THE  GENERAL.  - 

VERNON,  to  Ferdinand.  —  The  General.     (  Overwhelmed, 
Ferdinand   drops  into  an  arm-chair,  to  the  left,  hidden 


124  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

from  the  new-comer  by  the  led  hangings.)      What  do  you 
want? 

THE  GENERAL. 1  mUSt  S66  Pauline  ! 

VERNON. — If  you  listen  to  me,  you  will  wait;  it  will 
make  her  worse. 

THE  GENERAL,  he  forces  the  door  open. — I  will  come  in! 

VERNON. — General,  General,  do  stop,  please ! 

THE  GENERAL,  entering  the  room  and  approaching  the 
bed. — I'll  listen  to  nothing.  Why,  she  is  motionless 
and  cold  as  ice —  Oh,  Vernon ! 

VERNON. — Now,  General —  (Aside.)  I  must  send 
him  away!  (Aloud.)  Alas!  I  have  but  a  faint  hope 
of  saving  her — 

THE  GENERAL. — What  are  you  saying?  Have  you 
dared  to  deceive  me  all  this  time? 

VERNON. — My  old  friend,  you  must  look  at  this  bed 
with  the  fearlessness  you  had  when  facing  loaded  bat- 
teries !  And  for  the  present,  in  the  awful  suspense  I 
am  in,  you  ought  to  go  and —  (Aside.)  Oh,  what  an 
inspiration  !  (Aloud.)  You  ought  to  go  yourself  and 
secure  the  presence  of  a  priest. 

THE  GENERAL. — Vernon,  I  must  see  her,  embrace 
her —  (He  leans  over  the  bed.) 

VERNON. — Take  care  what  you  do! 

THE  GENERAL,  after  kissing  Pauline. — Oh,  so  cold! 

VERNON. — It  is  one  of  the  symptoms  of  her  malady, 
General —  Now,  go  as  fast  as  you  can  to  the  manse, 
for,  if  I  should  fail,  your  daughter,  raised  as  a  Chris- 
tian girl,  should  not  be  left  to  die  without  the  rites  of 
the  church. 

THE  GENERAL. — Yes,  yes,  I  am  going,  I  am  going! 
(Instead  of  walking  to  the  door  he  starts  toward  the  other 
side  of  the  bed.) 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  125 

VERNON,  showing  him  the  door. — This  way  out. 

THE  GENERAL. — My  friend,  I  feel  beside  myself —  I 
have  not  an  idea  in  my  head —  Vernon,  a  miracle, 
work  a  miracle !  You  who  have  saved  so  many,  will 
you  not,  can  you  not,  save  my  child? 

VERNON. — Come,  come  with  me —  (Aside.}  I  must 
accompany  him  outside  the  house,  for  if  he  should 
meet  the  magistrates,  what  awful  consequences  would 
follow.  (They  leave  the  room  together.) 


SCENE   III 
PAULINE.     FERDINAND. 

PAULINE. — Ferdinand ! 

FERDINAND. — O  Merciful  God !  Is  this  her  last  effort? 
Oh,  Pauline,  my  Pauline,  you  are  my  life  itself,  and  if 
Vernon  does  not  save  you,  I  will  follow  you —  We 
shall  be  united  forever! 

PAULINE. — If  it  is  so,  I  die  without  a  regret. 

FERDINAND,  picking  up  the  small  phial  left  behind  by 
Vernon. — This,  which  might  have  saved  you  if  the 
doctor  had  reached  you  sooner,  shall  deliver  me  from 
life. 

PAULINE. — No,  live  and  be  happy! 

FERDINAND. — Never,  never  without  you! 

PAULINE. — You  make  me  live  again. 

SCENE    IV 
THE  PRECEDING.     VERNON. 

FERDINAND. — She  speaks,  her  eyes  are  opened! 
VERNON. — Poor  thing!     There  she  falls  back  into  her 


I26  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

stupor!  What  will  her  awakening  be?  (Ferdinand 
resumes  his  seat  by  the  bedside  and  takes  Pauline's  hand 
in  his  own.) 


SCENE  V 

THE  PRECEDING.     RAMEL.     THE  INVESTIGATING  JUDGE. 

A  COURT  CLERK.     A  PHYSICIAN.     A  POLICE 

OFFICER.      MARGUERITE. 

MARGUERITE. — Monsieur  Vernon,  here  are  the  magis- 
trates. Monsieur  Ferdinand,  come  out  this  way. 
(Exit  Ferdinand  by  the  door  at  the  left.} 

RAMEL. — Officer,  you  will  have  your  men  watch  the 
various  exits  of  this  house  and  hold  yourself  ready  to 
obey  further  orders  from  us.  Doctor,  may  we  stay 
here  a  few  minutes  without  endangering  the  life  of 
your  patient? 

VERNON. — She  is  sleeping,  sir ;  sleeping  her  last  sleep. 

MARGUERITE. — Here  is  the  cup  containing  ;what 
remained  of  the  infusion,  and  there  is  arsenic  in  it. 
I  noticed  it  the  minute  I  took  it  away. 

THE  COURT  PHYSICIAN,  examining^  the  cup  and  tasting 
the  dregs  at  the  bottom. — There  is  no  doubt  that  this 
contains  some  poisonous  substance. 

THE  JUDGE. — You  will  please  take  possession  of  it 
and  analyze  it.  (He  notices  Marguerite  picking  a  small 
piece  of  paper  off  the  floor.}  What  is  this  paper? 

MARGUERITE. — Oh,  it's  nothing! 

RAMEL. — In  a  case  like  this,  nothing  is  insignificant 
to  a  magistrate!  (He  starts  as  he  looks  at  the  paper.) 
This  will  have  to  be  examined  closely,  later  on.  Can 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  127 

we  have  Monsieur  de  Grandchamp  kept  away  for  a 
little  while? 

VERNON. — He  is  gone  to  the  manse,  but  he  will  be 
back  soon. 

THE  JUDGE,  pointing  out  the  bed  to  the  Court  Physician. 
— Give  your  attention  here  please.  (The  two  doctors 
converse  in  a  low  voice  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.) 

RAMEL,  to  the  Judge. — Should  the  General  return 
while  we  are  here,  we  shall  act  toward  him  as  circum- 
stances may  dictate.  (Marguerite  is  sobbing,  kneeling  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed.  The  two  physicians,  the  Judge  and 
Ramel  are  grouped  at  the  front  of  the  stage.} 

RAMEL,  speaking  to  the  Court  Physician. — If  I  under- 
stand you  correctly,  sir,  your  opinion  is  that  the  illness 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp,  whom  we  saw,  the 
day  before  yesterday,  so  full  of  life  and  happiness,  is 
due  to  a  crime? 

THE  COURT  PHYSICIAN. — The  poisoning  symptoms  are 
of  the  most  convincing  nature. 

RAMEL. — And  are  the  remains  of  the  poison,  yet  in 
this  cup,  sufficient  to  consitute  legal  evidence  on  this 
particular  point? 

THE  COURT  PHYSICIAN. — They  are,  sir. 

THE  JUDGE,  to  Vernon. — Doctor,  this  woman,  here 
(pointing  to  Marguerite)  claims  that  yesterday  you 
ordered  an  infusion  of  orange  leaves  prepared  for 
Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp,  who  was  suffering 
from  the  effects  upon  her  nerves  of  a  discussion  with 
her  step-mother.  She  adds  that  Madame  de  Grand- 
champ,  who  managed  to  have  you  sent  four  leagues 
away  on  a  fool's  errand,  made  it  a  point  to  prepare 
this  tea  and  give  it  herself  to  her  step-daughter.  Is 
all  this  correct? 


i28  THE  STEP-MOTHER 

VERNON. — Yes,  sir,  it  is. 

MARGUERITE. — By  insisting  that  I  should  care  for 
Mademoiselle,  I  brought  upon  myself  a  scolding  from 
my  good  old  master. 

RAMEL,  to  Vernon. — Where  did  Madame  de  Grand- 
champ  send  you? 

VERNON. — Gentlemen,  there  seems  to  be  a  fatality 
ruling  this  whole  matter.  There  is  no  doubt  in  my 
mind  that  Madame  de  Grandchamp  wanted  to  have 
me  away  from  the  house,  for  the  workman  she  sent 
me  to  treat  was  enjoying  himself  at  the  village  inn 
when  I  got  there.  I  scolded  Champagne  for  deceiving 
Madame  as  to  the  cause  of  the  man's  absence,  but  he 
assured  me  he  never  had  said  the  fellow  was  ill. 

FELIX. — Gentlemen,  the  clergy  is  at  the  door. 

RAMEL. — Let  us  take  the  two  pieces  of  evidence  we 
have  found  into  the  parlor  and  proceed  there  with  our 
inquiries. 

VERNON. — This  way,  gentlemen,  this  way.  (They 
all  leave  the  room.) 

(TABLEAU,  CURTAIN.) 


SCENE   VI 
(The  scene  changes  to  the  drawing-room  of  the  First  Act. ) 

RAMEL.       THE    INVESTIGATING    JUDGE. 
THE  COURT-CLERK.     VERNON. 

RAMEL. — Then,  the  facts  stand  as  follows.  According 
to  the  statements  of  Felix  and  Marguerite,  first,  Mad- 
ame de  Grandchamp,  in  this  room,  administered  to  her 
step-daughter  a  dose  of  opium,  and  you,  Doctor  Ver- 


THE  STEP-MOTHER  129 

non,  noticing  the  criminal  action,  managed  to  get  pos- 
session of  the  cup  and  had  it  locked  up. 

VERNON. — That's  correct,  but — 

RAMEL. — How  is  it,  Doctor  Vernon,  that,  having 
been  a  witness  to  this  criminal  deed,  you  did  not  stop 
Madame  de  Grandchamp  from  proceeding  on  the  dan- 
gerous road  she  was  traveling? 

VERNON. — Believe  me,  sir,  everything  that  prudence 
could  dictate  and  my  long  experience  suggest,  I  have 
done. 

THE  JUDGE. — Your  conduct,  sir,  is  somewhat  strange 
and  will  need  explaining.  Yesterday  you  did  your 
duty  in  securing  this  material  proof,  the  cup,  but  why 
did  you  stop  short  in  that  direction? 

RAMEL. — One  moment,  if  you  please,  Judge.  This 
old  gentleman  is  sincere  and  honorable.  (He  takes 
Vernon  aside.)  Now,  tell  me,  have  you  not  discovered 
the  cause  of  this  crime ! 

VERNON. — Its  motive  lies  in  the  rivalry  of  two 
women,  urged  to  extremes  by  pitiless  passions — > 
More,  I  must  not  say. 

RAMEL. — I  know  everything. 

VERNON. — What!     You,  sir,  know  everything? 

RAMEL. — And,  like  you,  I  have  done  my  best  to  pre- 
vent a  catastrophe;  for  Ferdinand  was  to  leave 
to-night.  In  the  old  days,  I  knew  Mademoiselle  de 
Meilhac. 

VERNON.  —  If  that  is  so,  sir,  I  beg  of  you,  to  be 
merciful!  Have  pity  on  an  old  soldier,  with  as  many 
wounds  perhaps  as  he  has  illusions !  He  is  about  to 
lose  his  wife  and  his  daughter —  Let  him  not  lose  his 
honor  as  a  husband. 

RAMEL. — We  understand  each  other —    As  long  as 


130  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

Gertrude  makes  no  confession  that  compels  us  to  open 
our  eyes  to  the  real  situation,  I'll  endeavor  to  persuade 
the  investigating  judge — a  very  shrewd  and  unwavering 
magistrate — that  cupidity  alone  has  directed  Madame 
de  Grandchamp's  criminal  hand.  Help  me  to  succeed. 
(The  Judge  walks  over  to  them.  Ramel  assumes  at  once  a 
stern  tone  of  voice,  as  he  adds:}  Why  should  Madame 
de  Grandchamp  have  wished  to  put  her  step-daughter 
to  sleep?  As  the  old  friend  of  the  family,  you  must 
know  that. 

VERNON. — Pauline  was  about  to  confide  her  secret  to 
me.  Doubtless,  Madame  de  Grandchamp  got  an  ink- 
ling that  I  was  to  be  informed  of  things  she  preferred 
to  keep  concealed ;  I  think  this  is  also  the  reason  why 
she  managed  to  have  me  called  away  professionally  to 
see  a  perfectly  healthy  man.  She  did  not  try  to  prevent 
help  from  reaching  Pauline  in  good  time,  for  Louviers 
is  close  by  and  there  are  lots  of  physicians  to  be  had 
there. 

THE  JUDGE. — What  a  degree  of  premeditation!  (To 
Ramel.}  She  is  doomed  unless  we  find  the  proofs  of 
her  innocence  locked  up  in  her  own  desk.  She  does 
not  expect  us —  She  will  be  thunderstruck ! 


SCENE   VII 

THE  PRECEDING.     GERTRUDE.      Then  MARGUERITE. 

GERTRUDE. — I  hear  church  chants —  Oh,  the  magis- 
trates again—  What  is  happening  here?  (She  walks 
over  toward  Pauline's  door,  when  it  is  suddenly  thrown 
open  and  Marguerite  stands  on  the  threshold.  She  starts 
back  in  an  awful  fright.}  Ah ! 


THE    STEP-MOTHER  131 

MARGUERITE. — They  are  saying  prayers  on  your  vic- 
tim's body! 

GERTRUDK. — What?     Pauline?     Pauline  dead? 

THE  JUDGE. — And  you  poisoned  her,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE. — I!  I!  I!  Tell  me,  am  I  awake?  (To 
Itd-mcL)  You  here,  how  lucky —  You'll  be  able  to 
explain  everything!  For  you  know  all!  And  you  do 
not  believe  me  capable  of  a  crime,  do  you?  Anyhow, 
what  am  I  accused  of?  I,  try  to  kill  her!  I,  the  wife 
of  an  old  man  who  is  the  soul  of  honor!  I,  the  mother 
of  a  child  who  must  never  have  cause  to  blush  on  my 
account!  Ah,  law  and  justice  will  be  on  my  side,  I 
know — Marguerite,  let  no  one  leave  this  room —  And 
won't  somebody  tell  we  what  has  happened  since  I 
left  Pauline  merely  ailing  a  little? 

THE  JUDGE. — Collect  yourself,  Madame.  You  are 
now  in  the  presence  of  your  country's  magistrates. 

GERTRUDE. — Oh!     I  feel  chilled,  all  over — 

THE  JUDGE. — The  magistrates,  in  France,  Madame, 
remain  strictly  impartial  in  the  pursuance  of  their 
duties.  They  set  no  traps,  they  act  openly,  strong 
in  the  feeling  of  their  truth-seeking  mission.  For 
the  present,  you  are  in  the  preliminary  stage  of  an 
accusation,  and  I  owe  you  my  protection.  But  the 
truth  you  must  tell  me,  the  whole  truth.  The  rest 
will  take  care  of  itself. 

GERTRUDE. — If  it  is  so,  sir,  just  bring  me  to  Pauline's 
bed,  and,  standing  there,  I  will  cry  out  that  I  am 
innocent  of  her  death ! 

THE  JUDGE. — Madame! 

GERTRUDE. — Let  us  stop  all  these  long  phrases  you 
delight  to  wrap  around  those  you  accuse —  My  grief 
is  inexpressible!  I  weep  over  Pauline's  death  as  if 


I32  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

she  were  my  own  child —  Everything  she  has  done 
against  me  I  pardon  her—  What  else  do  you  want  of 
me  now?  Proceed,  I'll  answer  your  questions! 

RAMEL. — What  is  it  you  have  to  pardon? 

GERTRUDE. — I  meant — 

RAMEL,  in  a  low  voice  to  Gertrude. — For  heaven's  sake, 
be  prudent — 

GERTRUDE,  answering  Mm. — How  right  you  are — 
Around  me  nothing  but  yawning  chasms ! 

THE  JUDGE,  to  the  Court  Clerk. — You  will  take  down 
the  name,  etc.  later  on;  just  now  limit  yourself  to  jot- 
ting down  brief  notes  of  the  interrogatory.  (To  Ger- 
trude.) Did  you,  yesterday,  about  noon,  administer 
opium  to  Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp,  by  pouring 
some  of  the  drug  in  her  teacup? 

GERTRUDE. So,   doctor,   VOU ? 

RAMEL. — Do  not  accuse  Doctor  Vernon  of  any 
unkindness —  He  has  compromised  himself  only 
too  much  for  your  sake.  Answer  the  Judge's  ques- 
tion. 

GERTRUDE. — Yes,  it  is  true. 

THE  JUDGE,  presenting  the  cup  to  her. — Do  you  identify 
this  as  being  the  cup  in  question? 

GERTRUDE. — I  do.     What  next? 

THE  JUDGE,  to  his  clerk. — Write  down  that  Madame 
identifies  the  cup  and  admits  that  she  poured  opium 
into  it.  That  will  be  sufficient,  for  the  present,  con- 
cerning this  first  accusation. 

GERTRUDE. — So  you  are  accusing  me  of  something 
else?  Of  what? 

THE  JUDGE. — Madame,  if  you  are  unable  to  properly 
explain  the  action  concerning  which  I  am  now  going 
to  question  you,  you  will  stand  accused  of  the  crime  of 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  133 

murder  by  poison.  Let  us  look  together  for  the  proofs 
of  your  innocence  or  your  guilt. 

GERTRUDE. — And  where  shall  we  look  for  them, 
please? 

THE  JUDGE. — In  your  bed-room.  Yesterday,  you 
caused  Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp  to  drink  an 
infusion  of  orange  leaves  out  of  this  other  cup,  here, 
in  which  arsenic  has  been  found. 

GERTRUDE. — Arsenic  in  that  cup!  Can  such  a  thing 
be  possible? 

THE  JUDGE. — You  told  us  the  day  before  yesterday, 
that  the  desk  in  which  you  kept  a  package  of  arsenic  was 
always  locked,  with  a  key  that  never  left  your  person. 

GERTRUDE. — It  is  now  in  the  pocket  of  this  dress! 
Ah !  thank  you  for  remembering  that,  sir ;  this  torture 
will  now  end! 

RAMEL. — So,  you  made  no  use  of  this — ? 

GERTRUDE. — None  whatever;  you'll  find  the  package 
sealed  as  it  was  when  last  you  had  it  in  your  hands. 

RAMEL. — I  truly  hope  so,  Madame. 

THE  JUDGE,  to  Ramel. — I  doubt  it —  We  have  to  deal 
with  a  most  audacious  criminal — 

GERTRUDE. — My  room  is  all  upset,  allow  me — 

THE  JUDGE. — No,  no,  the  three  of  us  shall  go  in 
together. 

RAMEL. — Your  innocence  is  at  stake,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE. — Well  then,  come  in,  gentlemen. 

SCENE    VIII 

VERNON,  alone. — My  poor  old  friend,  kneeling  now  at 
his  daugther's  bedside!  No  one  but  God  can  give  her 
back  to  him,  now — 


I34  THE  STEP-MOTHER 


SCENE   IX 

VERNON.     GERTRUDE.     RAMEL.     THE  JUDGE. 
THE  COURT  CLERK. 

GERTRUDE.— Am  I  awake?  Am  I  dreaming?  Am 
I—? 

RAMEL. — You  are  lost,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE. — I  know  I  am,  sir!  But  who  has  done 
this  deed? 

THE  JUDGE,  to  Ms  clerk. — Write  down  that  Madame 
de  Grandchamp,  having  herself  opened  the  desk  in  her 
bed-room,  and,  having  handed  over  to  us  the  package 
of  arsenic  that  had  been  sealed  by  Monsieur  Baudril- 
lon,  we  have  found  this  package,  which  we  had  left, 
the  day  before  yesterday  unopened  and  untouched, 
with  its  seal  broken  and  an  amount  abstracted  from  it 
sufficient  to  cause  death. 

GERTRUDE. — To  cause  death !     I!! 

THE  JUDGE. — It  was  not  without  a  reason,  Madame, 
that  I  picked  up  this  scrap  of  torn  paper,  inside  your 
desk.  We  found  in  Mademoiselle  de  Grandchamp's 
room  this  other  scrap  which  fits  perfectly  the  one 
we  thus  secured.  This  is  a  proof  that  when  you 
opened  your  desk  to  obtain  the  poison,  you  picked  up 
this  piece  of  paper  to  hold  the  amount  of  the  drug  you 
took  from  the  package.  Then,  in  the  bewilderment 
that  often  accompanies  the  commission  of  a  crime,  you 
threw  away  the  fragment  after  emptying  it. 

GERTRUDE. — Did  you  not  say,  a  moment  ago,  that 
you  would  act  as  my  protector !  And  is  this — ? 

THE  JUDGE. — One  moment,  Madame.  The  witness' 
summons,  which  I  had  caused  to  be  prepared  for  you, 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  135 

must  now  be  changed  to  an  order  of  arrest.  (He 
signs  the  paper  which  his  clerk  hands  him.)  Now, 
Madame,  you  must  consider  yourself  a  prisoner. 

GERTRUDE. — I  suppose  it  has  to  be  as  you  say —  But 
you  told  me  also,  that  your  mission  was  to  find  the 
truth.  Shall  we  not  look  for  it  together,  sir? 

THE  JUDGE. — We  shall,  Madame. 

GERTRUDE,  to  Ramel,  as  she  bursts  into  tears. — Ah, 
Monsieur  Ramel,  Monsieur  Ramel! 

RAMEL. — Have  you  anything  to  say  in  your  defense 
that  might  induce  us  to  release  you? 

GERTRUDE. — Gentlemen,  I  am  innocent  of  this  hor- 
rible crime  of  murder,  but  I  find  everything  to  be 
against  me !  I  beseech  you,  instead  of  torturing  me, 
assist  me  just  a  little!  For  instance,  the  key  must 
have  been  taken  from  me —  Some  one  must  have 
entered  my  room  in  my  absence.  Ah !  I  understand 
it  all  now —  (Aside  to  Ramel.)  Pauline  loved  as  I 
love —  She  poisoned  herself — 

RAMEL. — For  the  sake  of  your  honor  as  a  wife  do  not 
say  a  word  of  this  without  absolute  proof — 

THE  JUDGE. — Madame,  is  it  true  that  yesterday, 
knowing  that  Doctor  Vernon  was  to  dine  at  your 
house,  you  sent  him  away — 

GERTRUDE. — Ah,  your  questions  are  like  so  many 
stabs  through  my  very  heart —  And  you  go  on,  and 
you  go  on — 

THE  JUDGE. — Did  you  or  did  you  not  send  him  to 
attend  a  workman,  at  Pr6-l'Eveque? 

GERTRUDE. 1  did. 

THE  JUDGE. — This  workman,  Madame,  was  at  the 
inn,  in  perfect  health. 

GERTRUDE. — Champagne  had  said  he  was  ill. 


136  THE   STEP-MOTHER 

THE  JUDGE. — Champagne,  whom  we  questioned, 
denies  this.  He  never  said  the  man  was  ill.  Your 
object  was  to  keep  help  from  the  sick  girl. 

GERTRUDE,  aside. — And  it  was  Pauline  who  had  me 
send  the  doctor  away!  Ah  Pauline!  Pauline! 
You'll  drag  me  to  the  grave  with  you,  but  I'll  go  down 
to  it  a  branded  criminal!  Oh  no!  Never!  Never! 
(Aside  to  Ramel.)  I  have  but  one  resource  left  me, 
sir.  (To  Vernon.)  Is  Pauline  still  alive? 

VERNON,  pointing  to  the  General,  who  is  entering  the 
room. — Here  comes  my  answer! 


SCENE   X 

THE  PRECEDING.     THE  GENERAL. 

THE  GENERAL. — She  is  dying,  Vernon,  dying!  If  I 
lose  her,  I  shall  never  survive  her  death! 

VERNON. — My  dear,  dear  friend ! 

THE  GENERAL. — There  seems  to  be  many  people 
here —  What  are  they  doing?  Oh,  save  her,  save 
her!  Where  is  Gertrude?  (They  lead  the  feeble  old 
man  to  the  rear  of  the  stage  and  make  Mm  sit  down.) 

GERTRUDE,  on  her  Tcnees  before  the  General. — Poor 
father!  Dear  friend!  (Speaking  half  to  herself. )  Oh,  if 
only  they  would  kill  me  now  without  a  trial!  (She 
rises  suddenly.)  No,  it  is  impossible!  Pauline  has 
wrapped  me  up  in  her  shroud  and  I  feel  her  icy  fingers 
around  my  throat —  And  yet,  I  had  given  up  the 
struggle,  yes,  I  had  decided  to  bury  with  me  the 
secret  of  this  horrible  domestic  drama —  Such  a  lesson 
it  would  be  for  other  women ! —  But  I  cannot  stand 
this  fighting  with  a  corpse  that  has  got  hold  of  me, 


THE    STEP-MOTHER  137 

that  instills  within  me  the  chill  of  death.  Ah!  But 
now,  my  innocence  will  come  out  of  my  confession! 
If  it  is  at  the  expense  of  somebody's  honor,  what  do  I 
care?  At  least  I  shall  not  be  branded  a  vile,  cowardly 
poisoner!  Yes,  I  am  going  to  tell  everything! 

THE  GENERAL,  rising  and  walking  threateningly  toward 
her. — Then  you  are  going  to  tell  the  magistrates  what 
you  have  hidden  obstinately  from  me,  for  the  last  two 
days !  Oh — you — contemptible  and  deceitful  creature ! 
You,  with  your  lying  caresses !  You  have  killed  my 
daughter.  Whom  else  do  you  want  to  destroy? 

GERTRUDE,  to  herself. — Must  I  keep  silent?  Must  I 
speak? 

RAMEL. — General,  I  beseech  you,  withdraw  from 
this  room.  It  is  the  law's  command. 

THE  GENERAL. — The  law !  You  stand  here  for  the 
law  of  man —  I  represent  the  law  of  God —  Far,  far 
above  you,  gentlemen —  I  am  the  accuser,  the  court, 
the  jury,  the  executioner!  And  now,  Madame,  speak 
out — 

GERTRUDE,  on  her  Tcnees  before  her  husband. — Oh,  have 
mercy,  sir —  Yes,  I  am — 

RAMEL.— Oh,  the  wretched  woman! 

GERTRUDE,  to  herself. — No,  No!  I  will  not  speak — 
He  must  never  know  the  truth!  (Aloud.)  If  the 
whole  world  thinks  me  guilty,  to  you  I  will  say,  to  my 
last  breath,  that  I  am  innocent!  Some  day,  out  of  two 
graves,  truth,  cruel,  pitiless  truth,  will  rise  and  pro- 
claim that  you,  you  also,  are  guilty,  that  you  also  have 
been  blinded  by  your  hatred — 

THE  GENERAL. — I!  I!  Guilty !  Am  I  losing  my 
reason?  How  dare  you  accuse  me!  (Seeing  Pauline 
walking  into  the  room.)  Ah!  Ah!  My  God! 


138  THE  STEP-MOTHER 


SCENE   XI 

THE  PRECEDING.     PAULINE,  leaning  on  FERDINAND. 

PAULINE. — I  have  been  told  everything.  This 
woman  is  innocent  of  the  crime  of  which  she  is 
accused.  My  Christian  faith  tells  me  that  I  can 
expect  no  forgiveness  in  the  other  life  if  I  do  not  par- 
don all  in  this  world.  It  was  I  who  took  the  key  of 
Madame's  desk  and  secured  the  poison;  I,  who  tore 
the  scrap  of  paper  to  wrap  in  it  the  drug  that  was  to 
end  my  miserable  life. 

GERTRUDE. — Ah,  Pauline !  Take  my  life,  take  from 
me  everything  I  hold  dear —  Doctor,  doctor,  save 
her! 

THE  JUDGE. — Mademoiselle,  are  you  telling  us  the 
truth? 

PAULINE. — The  truth!  Dying  persons  always  tell 
the  truth ! 

THE  JUDGE,  to  Ramel. — We  shall  never  reach  the 
bottom  of  this  mystery. 

PAULINE,  to  Gertrude. — And  do  you  know  why  I 
have  thus  appeared  to  save  you  from  certain  ruin?  It  is 
because  Ferdinand  just  whispered  into  my  ear  a  word 
that  has  aroused  me  from  my  deathly  sleep.  He  has 
such  a  horror  of  remaining  in  this  life  with  you  that 
he  prefers  to  follow  me  to  the, grave  where  we  shall 
rest  together,  united  in  death. 

GERTRUDE. — Ferdinand  dead!  My  God!  At  what 
price  am  I  saved? 

THE  GENERAL. — But  unhappy  child,  why  should  you 
die?  Have  I  not  been,  am  I  not  still  the  most  affec- 


THE   STEP-MOTHER  139 

tionate  of  fathers?  They  dare  to  say  that  I  am  the 
guilty  one. 

FERDINAND. — And  so  you  are,  General. — I  am  the 
only  one  able  to  solve  this  terrible  riddle  and  to  tell 
you  why  you  are  the  guilty  one — 

THE  GENERAL. — How  dare  you  speak  thus,  Ferdi- 
nand !  You,  to  whom  I  offered  my  daughter,  you  of 
whom  I  was  so  fond — 

FERDINAND. — My  name  is  Ferdinand,  Comte  de 
Marcandal,  son  of  General  Marcandal —  Do  you 
understand  now? 

THE  GENERAL. — Ah,  son  of  a  traitor,  you  were  fated 
to  bring  to  my  home  treachery  and  death!  Defend 
yourself !  (He  makes  one  threatening  step  toward  Ferdi- 
nand as  if  to  attack  him.) 

FERDINAND. — Do  you  want  to  fight  a  dead  man,  Gen- 
eral? (He  falls  dead  at  his  feet.) 

GERTRUDE,  utters  a  shriek  and  rushes  toward  Ferdi- 
nand.— Oh !  (She  throws  herself  back  as  the  General  walks 
toward  his  daughter.  She  pulls  out  a  phial  but  almost  at 
once  throws  it  a-iuay.)  No,  No!  I  condemn  myself  to 
live  for  this  old  man's  sake!  (The  General  kneels  before 
his  daughter,  breathing  her  last  stretched  on  the  sofa.) 
Doctor,  doctor,  what  is  he  doing?  Is  his  reason  for- 
saking him? 

THE  GENERAL,  stuttering  like  a  man  who  cannot  find  his 
words. — I — I — I — 

VERNON. — What  are  you  doing,  General? 

THE  GENERAL. — I— ^1 — am — trying — to  —  pray  —  over 
my  dead  child ! ! 

x 

(FINAL  CURTAIN.) 


MERCADET 

A  COMEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS  AND  IN  PROSE 


Presented  for  the  first   time   at    the    Theatre  du 

Gymnase-Dramatique,  in  Paris^ 

August  24,  1851. 


CHARACTERS 

MERCADET,  a  promoter. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  his  wife. 

JULIE,  their  daughter. 

MINARD,  a  clerk  in  Mercadet's  office. 

VERDELIN,  a  friend  of  Mercadet. 

GOULARD,     ~\ 

PIERQUIN,     V  creditors  of  Mercadet. 

VlOLETTE,      ) 

MERICOURT,  an  acquaintance  of  Mercadet. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  a  suitor  to  Julie's  haud. 

JUSTIN,  a  valet,  } 

THERESE,  a  chamber-maid,   V  in  the  service  of  Mercadet. 

VIRGINIE,  a  cook,  ) 

SUNDRY  CREDITORS  OF  MERCADET. 


The  three  acts  take  place  in  the  richly  furnished  apartments  of 
Mercadet.     Time,  about  1845. 


MERCADET 


FIRST    ACT 

(A  Drawing-room.  A  door  at  the  back.  Doors  on  the  right 
and  on  tlie  left.  At  the  front  of  the  stage,  to  the  left,  a  mantel- 
piece with  a  looking-glass.  To  the  right,  a  window ;  next  to  it  a 
small  table  with  writing  material  upon  it;  arm-chairs  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left.) 

SCENE   I 

JUSTIN.     VIRGINIE.     THERESE. 

JUSTIN,  going  on  with  his  dusting. — Yes,  my  dears, 
this  poor  Monsieur  Mercadet  may  swim  a  while 
longer,  but  drown  he  will,  you  take  my  word  for  it. 

VIRGINIE,  her  marketing-basket  on  her  arm. — Do  you 
really  think  so? 

JUSTIN. — Do  I!  I  tell  you,  he  has  gone  to  pieces, 
and,  although  there  are  lots  of  pickings  for  servants  in 
the  house  of  a  financially-embarrassed  master,  he 
owes  us  now  a  whole  year's  back  wages,  and  we  would 
do  well  to  have  ourselves  bounced. 

THERESE. — Bounced!  That's  easier  said  than  done — 
Some  masters  are  so  obstinate —  I  have  been  mighty 
impertinent  to  Madame  half  a  dozen  times  lately,  but 
she  doesn't  seem  to  notice — 

VIRGINIE. — Well,  I've  served  as  cook   in  a  score   of 


I44  MERCADET 

houses,  but  this  family  beats  them  all !  When  I  get 
tired  of  kitchen-work,  I'll  just  go  straight  on  the 
stage ;  it's  a  right  smart  actress  I  am  now. 

JUSTIN. — That's  what  we  are  all  doing — acting  a 
regular  comedy — 

VIRGINIE. — Why,  this  morning,  one  of  the  creditors 
came  to  the  door  and  asked  for  Monsieur.  "Mon- 
sieur !"  I  exclaimed,  with  well-feigned  surprise, 
"don't  you  know  that  he  left  this  morning  for 
Lyons?" —  "For  Lyons?"  says  the  party.  "Yes,  he 
has  gone  to  close  a  big  deal  that's  going  to  make  him 
richer  than  ever,  a  marvelous  coal  mine,  they  say"  — 
"Is  that  so?  Well,  well,  and  when  is  he  expected 
back?"  "Ah,  that — we  don't  know."  Yesterday, 
another  of  these  fellows  called ;  I  answered  the  bell 
with  a  face  as  long  and  as  sad  as  if  I  had  lost  my  best 
beloved — 

JUSTIN,  aside. — She  means  her  money,  of  course. 

VIRGINIE,  mimicking  a  weeping  woman. — "Ah,  Sir, 
Monsieur  and  Mademoiselle  are  in  great  grief —  Poor, 
poor  Madame,  the  doctors  say  there  is  no  hope  for 
her — the  family  had  to  leave  in  a  hurry  for  the  south 
of  France" —  Ha!  (She  bursts  out  laughing.) 

THERESE. — 'T  isn't  always  such  fun —  Some  of  these 
creditors  are  very  insolent — they  talk  to  us  as  if  we 
were  the  masters  of  the  house ! 

VIRGINIE. — Well,  it's  decided  this  time —  I'll  tell 
Madame  that  she  must  settle  with  me  at  once —  Any- 
way, the  storekeepers  won't  deliver  any  more  supplies 
except  for  cash — and,  sure,  I'm  not  going  to  advance 
my  own  money — 

JUSTIN,  walking  up  the  stage. — Let  us  all  ask  for  our 
wages. 


MERCADET  145 

VIRGINIE  and  THERESE,  together. — Yes,  yes,  let  us  all 
ask  for  our  wages ! 

VIRGINIE. — And  they  call  themselves  capitalists! 
Why,  the  real  capitalists  are  always  spending  money 
for  their  table — 

JUSTIN,  coming  back  to  the  front. — And  are  devoted  to 
their  servants. 

VIRGINIE. — And  remember  them  handsomely  in  their 
wills —  That's  the  kind  of  capitalists  I  care  to  serve. 

THERESE. — Well  said,  Virginie —  All  the  same,  I 
can't  help  pitying  Mademoiselle,  their  daughter,  and 
young  Minard,  her  beau. 

JUSTIN. — Bosh!  You  don't  expect  Monsieur  Mer- 
cadet  to  give  his  daughter  to  a  no-account  clerk,  with 
i, 800  a  year  salary —  He  aims  higher  than  that, 
Monsieur  Mercadet — 

THERESE  and  VIRGINIE. — Does  he?  And  who  is  the 
man? 

JUSTIN. — I  don't  know,  for  sure;  though  two  young 
men  drove  to  our  door  in  a  trap  and  their  groom  told 
Father  Gruneau,  the  doorkeeper,  that  one  of  them  was 
to  marry  Mademoiselle  Mercadet. 

VIRGINIE. — What!  You  don't  mean  those  two  gen- 
tlemen, with  light-colored  gloves  and  stunning  waist- 
coats want  to  marry  Mademoiselle? 

JUSTIN,  laughing. — Not  both  of  them,  certainly. 

VIRGINIE. — Their  trap  was  varnished  to  kill,  the 
horse  had  rose-buds  here.  (Pointing  to  her  ear.)  It 
was  left  in  charge  of  a  little  groom  hardly  eight  years 
old,  pink  and  white  and  frizzled,  with  top-boots,  and 
the  looks  of  a  mouse  gnawing  at  some  lace  work — and 
he  swore  like  a  Tartar!  His  master  is  as  handsome 
as  can  be,  with  a  big  diamond  in  his  necktie —  You 


146  MERCADET 

don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  Mademoiselle  Mercadet  is 
to  marry  such  as  he —  Never ! 

JUSTIN. — Oh!  well!  you  don't  know  Monsieur  Mer- 
cadet! Listen!  I  have  been  in  this  house  for  six 
years,  but  it  is  only  since  he  began  to  go  down,  down — 
financially — and  since  I  have  seen  him  handle  his 
creditors  the  way  he  does,  that  I  have  understood 
that  this  man  can  do  most  anything — even  get  rich 
again.  One  day,  I'd  say  to  myself:  This  time  he  is 
smashed  for  good  and  all !  The  auction  notices  would 
be  pasted  on  the  gate;  constables  and  lawyers'  clerks 
would  be  dumping  summons  and  protests  by  the  ream 
— I  could  have  sold  pounds  of  them  as  waste  paper 
without  his  noticing  it.  Then,  in  a  jiffy,  everything 
would  change  and  he  would  be  on  top  again!  You 
have  no  idea  of  that  man's  inventions!  Something 
brand  new  every  day  in  the  week !  And  such  schemes ! 
Paving  stones  made  out  of  almost  anything!  Ducal 
estates,  duck-ponds,  wind-mills,  every  thing  you  can 
think  of — turned  into  stocks  and  bonds !  But  his  cash- 
box  must  have  a  big  hole  somewhere :  fill  it  as  fast 
as  he  can,  it's  always  empty!  Only  the  creditors 
remain.  But  how  he  jollies  them!  One  time,  after  I 
had  seen  them  come  here  in  a  towering  rage,  threaten- 
ing to  carry  off  every  stick  of  furniture,  to  have  him 
arrested  on  the  spot;  he  began  talking  to  them  in  his 
fetching  way  and,  in  a  moment,  they  were  the  best 
friends  he  had  in  the  world  and  withdrew  smiling  and 
shaking  hands.  People  speak  of  lion-tamers,  of  tiger- 
tamers — that's  nothing — Monsieur  Mercadet  tames 
creditors  \ 

THERESE. — One  of  them  though  is  hard  to  fool — that 
fellow  Pierquin. 


MERCADET  147 

JUSTIN. — A  regular  jackal  feeding  on  bankrupts! 
And  poor  father  Violette — 

VIRGINIE.— Half  beggar  —  half  creditor,  he  is— I 
always  feel  like  giving  him  a  bowl  of  soup. 

JUSTIN. — And  that  man  Goulard! 

THERESE. — A  discounter  who  wants  to  discount  me! 
(They  laugh.) 

VIRGINIE. — I  hear  Madame. 

JUSTIN. — Let  us  be  nice  to  her —  We'll  hear  some- 
thing about  the  marriage. 


SCENE    II 

THE  SAME.      MADAME  MERCADET. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  enters  from  the  right. — Justin,  did 
you  attend  to  the  errand  I  gave  you? 

JUSTIN. — Yes,  ma'am,  but  they  refuse  to  deliver  the 
dresses,  the  hats,  everything  your  ordered,  until — 

VIRGINIE. — I  must  also  tell  Madame  that  the  butcher 
and  grocer  decline  to — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — I  understand. 

JUSTIN. — Monsieur's  creditors  are  at  the  bottom  of 
this —  Ah !  if  I  only  knew  how  to  make  them  rue  it. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — They  have  to  be  paid ;  nothing 
else  will  do. 

JUSTIN,  aside. — Wouldn't  they  be  surprised? 

MADAME  MERCADET. — It  is  useless  to  hide  from  you 
my  growing  anxiety  concerning  Monsieur's  business. 
We  may  have  to  count  upon  your  discretion —  Will 
you  be  true  to  us? 

ALL,  speaking  together. — Sure,  we  will. 


148  MERCADET 

VIRGINIE. — We  were  just  saying  how  kind  our 
employers  are. 

THERESE. — And  that  we  would  throw  ourselves  into 
the  fire  for  their  sake. 

JUSTIN. — Our  very  words!  (Mercadet  appears  at  the 
back.} 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Thank  you,  you  are  kind- 
hearted  people.  (Mercadet^  still  unnoticed,  shrugs  his 
shoulders.}  All  Monsieur  needs  is  a  little  more  time — 
He  is  so  clever.  And  then  there  is  a  brilliant  offer 
for  the  hand  of  Mademoiselle  and  if  only — 


SCENE   III 

THE  SAME.     MERCADET. 

MERCADET,  interrupting  his  wife. — Please,  my  dear! 
(The  servants  move  away.} 

MERCADET,  aside  to  his  ivife. — The  way  you  talk  to 
your  servants !  They'll  turn  impertinent,  next —  (To 
Justin.}  Justin,  go  at  once  to  Monsieur  Verdelin,  and 
ask  him  to  come  over  to  talk  with  me  on  a  most  press- 
ing business —  If  you  are  reticent  enough,  he  is  sure 
to  come —  You,  Therese,  you  return  right  away  to 
the  stores  where  Madame  ordered  the  goods,  and  tell 
them,  curtly,  that  if  they  deliver  everything  this  after- 
noon, they'll  be  paid — yes,  paid  in  cash —  You  may 
go.  (Justin  and  TJierese  move  toward  the  door.}  Stay 
— let  me  see —  Ah!  if  these  gentlemen  call  again, 
show  them  in  here. 

(Madame  Mercadet  takes  a  seat  at  the  right.} 
JUSTIN. — These  gentlemen —    What  gentlemen? 


MERCADET  149 

THERESE  and  VIRGINIE. — Yes,  what  gentlemen? 

MERCADET. — Why!  Don't  you  know  them  by  this 
time?  My  "gentlemanly"  creditors,  of  course. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Your  creditors ! 

MERCADET,  taking  a  seat  by  the  table  to  the  right. — 
Why,  yes,  my  dear.  I  am  feeling  lonely ;  I  need  their 
company.  (To  Justin  and  Therese.)  That's  all  right. 

(They  withdraw,  but  Virginia  lingers.} 


SCENE   IV 

MERCADET.      MADAME  MERCADET.     VIRGINIE. 

MERCADET,  to  Virginie. — Has  not  Madame  given  you 
her  orders  for  the  day? 

VIRGINIE. — No,  sir,  besides,  the  butcher  and — 

MERCADET,  not  heeding  her. —  You'll  have  to  distin- 
guish yourself  to-night —  We'll  have  four  guests  for 
dinner,  Monsieur  Verdelin  and  his  wife,  Monsieur  de 
Mericourt  and  Monsieur  de  la  Brive;  we'll  sit  seven  at 
the  table.  These  small  meals  are  the  triumph  of 
great  cooks.  After  a  clear  soup,  give  us  a  fine  fish  and 
two  entries,  delicace  and  savory. 

VIRGINIE. — But,  sir,  the  grocer — 

MERCADET,  continuing. — The  next  service —  Oh! 
that  must  be  brilliant  and  toothsome ;  at  the  same  time, 
substantial  and  dainty —  Let  us  see — 

VIRGINIE. — But  the  butcher,  the  grocer,  sir — 

MERCADET. — What?  the  butcher,  the  grocer?  How 
can  you  talk  of  these  people  the  very  day  my  daugh- 
ter's future  husband  is  to  be  introduced  to  her! 


I5o  MERCADET 

VIRGINIE. — But  they  won't  deliver  any  more  goods, 
sir — 

MERCADET. — What's  that?  Storekeepers  that  won't 
deliver  goods!  Why,  my  good  woman,  patronize 
other  dealers —  Go  to  their  competitors,  tell  them  I'll 
trade  with  them,  and  they  will  be  so  glad  that  they'll 
tip  you. 

VIRGINIE. — And  when  I  leave,  how  am  I  going  to 
pay  them? 

MERCADET. — Don't  worry  about  that.  It's  their 
business. 

VIRGINIE. — But  suppose  they  hold  me  responsible — 
Now,  really,  I  can't  do  it! 

MERCADET,  rising. — (Aside.}  This  girl  has  money. 
(Aloud.)  Virginie,  you  ought  to  know  by  this  time, 
that  credit  is  the  very  basis  of  government.  Indeed, 
the  storekeepers  would  show  positive  contempt  for  the 
laws  of  their  country,  they  would  be  little  short  of 
radicals  and  enemies  of  the  constitution,  if  they  did 
not  leave  me  in  peace —  Don't  bother  me  by  talking 
about  people  in  open  insurrection  against  the  vital 
principle  of  all  'well-ordered  nations —  You  just  go 
and  take  care  of  the  dinner,  and  show  us  what  an  A-i 
cook  like  you  can  do  in  her  line!  And  if,  Madame 
Mercadet,  the  day  after  her  daughter's  marriage, 
should  happen  to  owe  you — I'll  settle  it  myself! 

VIRGINIE,  hesitating. — Well,  sir — 

MERCADET. — Just  go  away !  I'll  make  your  money 
earn  you  10  per  cent,  interest  every  six  months — 
That's  better  than  any  savings  bank,  isn't  it? 

VIRGINIE. — I  should  think  so,  it  hardly  pays  me  4  per 
cent — 

MERCADET,  aside  to  his  wife. — Now,  don't  you  see? 


MERCADET  151 

(To  Virginie.)  What!  you  invest  your  money  in  a 
stranger's  hands!  I  should  have  thought  you  shrewd 
enough  to  take  care  of  your  savings  yourself,  and  in 
this  house. 

VIRGINIE,  aside,  walking  to  the  door. — Ten  per  cent, 
interest  ever}'-  six  months! —  (Turns  around.)  I'll 
attend  to  the  dinner,  sir;  please  have  Madame  instruct 
me  about  it.  Now,  I'll  cook  the  luncheon.  (Exit 
Virginie.) 


SCENE    V 

MERCADET.     MADAME  MERCADET. 

MERCADET,  looking  at  Virginie  as  she  leaves  the  room. — 
This  girl  has  put  in  the  savings  bank  three  thousand 
francs  she  squeezed  out  of  us —  We  don't  need  to 
worry  about  her  department  for  a  while. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Oh!  Monsieur  Mercadet,  can 
you  allow  yourself  to  sink  so  low? 

MERCADET. — Madame,  there  is  no  detail  too  small  for 
the  wise  man  to  attend  to —  Do  not  judge  my  ways — 
A  moment  ago,  when  you  were  trying  to  humor  your 
servants,  they  had  to  be  ordered  about,  curtly,  as 
Napoleon  did. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — How  am  I  to  order  them  about, 
when  we  have  stopped  paying  them? 

MERCADET. — That's  just  it —  They  have  to  be  paid 
in  audacity. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — But  can  we  not  obtain  from 
their  attachment  what  they  would  refuse  to — ? 

MERCADET. — Their  attachment!     Oh  how  little  you 


152  MERCADET 

know  our  times !  To-day,  Madame,  there  is  no  more 
household  attachment— nothing  but  individual  selfish- 
ness. Everybody's  heart  is  in  a  cash-box!  Even  a 
wife  hardly  counts  upon  her  husband —  She  prefers 
an  insurance  policy  on  his  life.  We  pay  our  debt  to 
our  country  by  hiring  a  man  to  play  soldier  in  our 
place !  All  our  duties  are  turned  into  contracts !  Our 
servants — as  frequently  changed  as  France  does  its 
constitution — have  no  staid  attachment  for  their  mas- 
ters. They  will  be  devoted  to  you  as  long  as  you 
have  their  money  in  your  hands — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — O  sir!  What  are  you  saying? 
You,  always  so  honorable,  so  honest ! 

MERCADET. — You  mean  that  from  words  to  acts  there 
is  but  a  step?  Well,  you  may  depend  on  it  that  I'll  do 
everything  to  save  myself,  for  (pulling  a  five-franc  piece 
from  his  pocket]  here  is  Modern  Honor!  Do  you  know 
why  dramas  with  rascals  as  chief  heroes  are  so  pop- 
ular? It's  because  the  audience  goes  home,  after  the 
play,  thinking:  "How  much  more  virtuous  we  are 
than  those  scoundrels!" 

MADAME  MERCADET. — My  dear  husband — 

MERCADET. — Yes — I  know — I  have  an  excuse —  I 
am  crushed  under  the  weight  of  my  partner's  crime — 
That  man,  Godeau,  who  ran  away  after  embezzling 
our  firm's  capital! —  Anyway,  there  is  nothing  dis- 
honorable in  owing  something  to  somebody!  Every 
man  owes  his  father  his  life.  Does  he  ever  return  it? 
Mother  Earth  is  in  a  state  of  chronic  insolvency 
toward  the  Sun.  Life,  Madame,  life  itself  is  a  constant 
succession  of  borrowing,  borrowing —  And  it's  not 
every  one  that  can  get  into  debt!  Am  I  not  my 
creditors'  superior?  I  have  their  money,  they  are 


MERCADET  153 

awaiting  mine —  I  ask  nothing  of  them,  tney  are 
ceaselessly  importuning  me.  A  man  without  debts! 
why,  nobody  cares  a  fig  about  him !  while  my  credit- 
ors are  thinking  of  me  all  the  time ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Yes,  and  rather  too  much,  I 
should  say.  Of  course,  to  owe  when  one  can  pay  is 
right  enough,  but  to  borrow  when  you  know  in  advance 
that  you  cannot  pay — 

MERCADET. — Oh!  why  bestow  such  pity  upon  my 
creditors,  they  trusted  us. — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Because  they  believed  in  us — 

MERCADET. — No,  Madame — because  they  wanted  to 
make  money  out  of  us !  The  speculator  and  the  stock- 
holder are  two  birds  of  the  same  breed — they  want  to 
get  rich  in  a  day  and  an  hour.  In  my  time,  I 
have  helped  every  one  of  these  creditors  of  mine,  and 
now  they  want  to  extract  something  more  out  of  me. 
Where  should  I  be,  had  I  not  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  their  interests  and  of  their  weaknesses?  You'll  see 
in  a  few  minutes,  how  I  can  sing  to  each  one  the  tune 
that  suits  him.  (He  takes  a  seat  to  the  left.) 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Yes !  I  heard  you  say — 

MERCADET. — That  I  was  ready  to  receive  them.  I 
have  to.  (Taking  her  hand.)  I  have  just  come  down 
to  my  last  resource,  dear  friend ;  now  is  the  time  for 
a  bold  stroke — and  Julie  will  help  me  succeed. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Our  daughter! 

MERCADET. — My  creditors  are  pressing  me,  harass- 
ing me,  I  must  marry  Julie  brilliantly  in  order  to 
dazzle  them  into  giving  me  more  time  to  turn  around — 
But  to  bring  about  this  marriage,  those  kind  gentlemen 
will  have  to  let  me  have  some  more  money. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — They,  give  you  money! 


154  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — Must  we  not  have  spot  cash  to  pay  for 
the  gowns  you  are  expecting  to-day  and  to  purchase  a 
trousseau  worthy  of  my  daughter?  By  the  way,  with  a 
dowry  of  200,000  francs,  nothing  less  than  a  15,000 
franc  trousseau  will  do — don't  you  think  so? 

MADAME  MERCADET. — But  you  have  no  such  dowry  to 
give  away. 

MERCADET,  rising. — All  the  more  reason,  then,  to 
give  the  trousseau. — Now,  listen:  We  must  have 
12,000  to  15,000  francs  for  the  trousseau  and  at  least 
three  thousand  more  to  settle  pressing  household 
accounts.  It  would  not  do  to  let  Monsieur  de  la  Brive 
suspect  that  we  are  in  the  least  financially  embarrassed ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — But  the  idea  of  asking  your 
creditors  for  that  money? 

MERCADET. — Why  not?  Have  they  not  become,  so 
to  speak,  members  of  the  family?  Find  -me  any 
relative  as  anxious  as  they  are  to  see  me  wealthy  and 
rich!  Relatives  are  always  somewhat  envious  of  any 
happiness  or  lucky  turn  Providence  may  send  our 
way — our  creditors,  never.  Should  I  die  now,  there 
would  be  more  creditors  than  relatives  to  follow  my 
hearse ;  the  first  might  mourn  me  in  their  hearts  and 
show  it  in  their  clothes ;  the  latter  would  feel  my  loss 
in  their  account-books  and  in  their  purses;  that's 
where  death  creates  a  real  void !  The  heart  forgets 
after  a  year  or  less;  crepe  is  thrown  aside — but  the 
unpaid  debt  remains  unpaid  and  the  gap  is  ever  yawn- 
ing. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — But,  my  dear  husband,  I  know 
your  creditors — you'll  not  obtain  anything  from  them. 

MERCADET. — I'll  obtain  from  them  time  and  money. 
(Madame  Mercadet  makes  a  movement  of  surprised 


MERCADET  155 

protest.)  Don't  you  know,  my  dear,  that  once  they 
have  opened  their  purses,  creditors  are  like  gamblers, 
and  will  continue  throwing  good  money  after  bad. 
(Excitedly.)  Oh,  they  are  simply  inexhaustible  mines! 
If  you  have  no  father  to  leave  you  a  fortune,  your 
creditors  will  act  the  part  of  delightfully  generous 
uncles — they'll  never  tire  of  helping  you ! 

JUSTIN,  entering  from  the  back. — Monsieur  Goulard 
asks  whether  Monsieur  really  wants  to  see  him? 

MERCADET,  to  liis  wife. — He  is  amazed.  (To  Justin.) 
Ask  him  to  walk  in.  (Exit  Justin.)  Goulard,  thie 
most  intractable  of  the  lot!  With  never  less  than 
three  constables  in  his  employ!  Luckily,  he  is  a 
cowardly  and  greedy  speculator  who  puts  his  money  in 
the  most  risky  enterprises  and  trembles  with  fear  lest 
they  miscarry — 

JUSTIN,  announcing. — Monsieur  Goulard.  (Exit  Jus- 
tin. ) 


SCENE   VI 

THE  PRECEDING.     GOULARD. 

GOULARD,  in  an  angry  voice. — So  you  consent  to  be  at 
home,  sir,  when  it  pleases  you! 

MADAME  MERCADET,  aside  to  Mercadet. — He  seems  to 
be  furious. 

MERCADET,  with  a  reassuring  gesture. — Monsieur  is  my 
creditor,  my  dear. 

GOULARD. — Yes,  I  am — and  I  won't  leave  this  place 
until  I  receive  my  money. 

MERCADET,  aside. — You  shall  not  leave  this  place  until 
you  have  given  me  some  money.  (Aloud.)  You  have 


156  MERCADET 

hounded  me  pretty  hard,  Goulard,  just  as  if  we  had 
not  had  so  many  dealings  together. 

GOULARD. — Dealings  that  were  not  all  profitable. 

MERCADET. — Of  course  they  were  not  all  profitable; 
if  all  dealings  were,  everybody  would  go  into  business. 

GOULARD. — You  don't  suppose  I  came  here  to  get 
new  evidence  of  your  clever  wit.  I  know  you  are 
brighter  than  I — you  have  my  money. 

MERCADET. — Well!  money  has  got  to  be  somewhere, 
you  know.  (To  his  wife.)  You  see  here,  my  dear,  a 
man  who  has  hunted  me  as  if  I  were  a  rabbit.  Yes, 
Goulard,  you  have  treated  me  shamefully,  and  any  one 
else,  in  my  place,  would  take  his  revenge — I  could 
make  you  lose  a  big  sum  of  money — 

GOULARD. — So  you  will,  if  you  don't  pay  what  you 
owe  me —  But  I'll  take  care  of  that —  The  order  of 
arrest  is  in  the  Sheriff's  hands. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — The  order  of  arrest! 

MERCADET. — Is  in  the  Sheriff's  hands!  I  declare, 
you  must  have  gone  crazy!  But,  wretched  man,  you 
don't  know  what  you  are  doing!  You  are  ruining  me, 
and  ruining  yourself,  by  one  fell  blow — 

GOULARD,  anxious. — What's  that?  You,  I  don't  deny, 
but  not  me !  How  could  it  be? 

MERCADET. — You  are  ruining  us  both,  I  tell  you! 
Quick,  don't  lose  a  minute,  and  write — 

GOULARD,  mechanically  sitting  down  and  picking  up  a 
pen. — Write — What?  To  whom? 

MERCADET. — To  Delannoy,your  cashier,  asking  him  to 
have  proceedings  against  me  stopped  at  once — and  to 
send  me  3,000  francs,  of  which  I  am  in  pressing  need. 

GOULARD,  throwing  the  pen  away. — Three  thousand 
francs — I  guess  not — 


MERCADET  157 

MERCADET. — You  hesitate,  when  I  am  just  about  to 
marry  my  daughter  to  a  powerfully  rich  man —  You 
want  me  arrested —  You  throw  away  your  claim,  your 
capital  and  interest —  You — 

GOULARD. — Are  you  really  going  to  marry  your 
daughter? 

MERCADET. — To  the  Count  de  la  Brive,  worth  as 
many  thousands  a  year  as  there  are  years  in  his 
age! 

GOULARD. — Then  if  he  is  a  man  of  age  all  the  better — 
I  might  give  you  a  little  time —  But  no,  that's  no  use, 
I  won't  be  fooled  again —  No  delay — nothing;  good- 
by —  (He  turns  to  go.} 

MERCADET,  with  great  energy. — All  right — you  may 
go,  ungrateful  man — but,  remember  that  I  tried  to 
save  you  — 

GOULARD. — To  save  me — from  what? 

MERCADET,  aside. — I've  got  him —  (Aloud.)  From 
what?  From  total  ruin! 

GOULARD. — From  ruin!     That's  preposterous! 

MERCADET,  taking  a  seat  to  the  right. — How  can  it  be 
that  you,  an  intelligent,  shrewd  man,  whom  I  thought 
so  clever — so  very  clever,  could  make  such  a  deal !  I 
tell  you,  it  makes  me  furious  to  think  of  it,  furious 
against  you —  Not  that  I  have  such  great  affection 
for  you — simply  because  I  have  looked  upon  your 
future  somewhat  as  my  own.  I  used  to  say  to  myself: 
I  owe  him  so  much  already  that  I  can  depend  upon 
his  coming  to  my  help  on  some  great  occasion — like  this 
one  for  instance !  And  here  you  are,  risking  all  you 
have  in  the  world  in  one  enterprise !  Ah!  You  were 
right  in  refusing  me  those  three  thousand  francs! 
Better  sink  them  with  the  rest.  Send  me  to  the 


158  MERCADET 

debtor's  prison,  my  dear  fellow —  Then  you'll  know 
where  to  look  for  a  friend  when  all  is  gone — 

GOULARD,  coming  closer  to  Mercadet. — Mercadet!  My 
dear  Mercadet!  Is  what  you  say  really  true? 

MADAME  MERCADET,  indignantly. — Sir — 

MERCADET. — What  a  disaster!  If  I  were  not  here  to 
save  him — : 

GOULARD. — Mercadet!  Are  you  speaking  of  the 
Basse-Indre  Mining  Co.  ? 

MERCADET. — Of  course  I  am.  (Aside.)  Ah!  rascal 
so  you  have  got  Basse-Indre  stock,  have  you? 

GOULARD. — But  I  thought  the  deal  a  splendid  one — 

MERCADET. — Splendid —  Yes,  for  those  who  sold  out 
yesterday. 

GOULARD. — Sold  out!     Who?     What? 

MERCADET. — Of  course  they  sold  out,  yesterday  after- 
noon, after  the  close  of  the  Exchange,  a  secret  deal — 

GOULARD. — Good -by  then,  and  many  thanks; 
Madame,  my  best  regards — 

MERCADET,  stopping  him. — Goulard! 

GOULARD. — What  is  it? 

MERCADET. — And  those  few  lines  for  Delannoy? 

GOULARD. — I'll  tell  him  to  delay  proceedings. 

MERCADET. — No,  sit  down  right  here  and  send  him  a 
written  order;  in  the  meantime  I'll  tell  you  of  some- 
one who  will  buy  your  stock. 

GOULARD,  sitting  at  the  table. — All  my  Basse-Indre 
stock?  (He  takes  tip  a  pen.)  And  who  is  he? 

MERCA'DET,  aside. — Now  look  at  this  honest  man, 
ready  to  rob  his  neighbor.  (Aloud.)  Write  down 
"three  months'  time" — 

GOULARD. — All  right —  It's  down —  "Three 
months'  time." 


MERCADET  159 

MERCADET. — My  man,  who  is  buying  on  the  quiet  for 
fear  of  a  rise,  wants  three  hundred  shares —  I  sup- 
pose you  have  as  many  as  that? 

GOULARD. — I  have  three  hundred  and  fifty. 

MERCADET. — Fifty  more !  Never  mind,  he'll  swal- 
low them.  (Looking  at  the  writing.')  By  the  way,  did 
you  write  about  the  three  thousand  francs? 

GOULARD. — What's  the  man's  name? 

MERCADET. — His  name?    You  did  not  write  about — 

GOULARD. — His  name! 

MERCADET. — The  three  thousand  francs! 

GOULARD. — What  a  fellow  you  are!  (He  writes.} 
Well  it's  here  now. 

MERCADET. — His  name  is  Pierquin. 

GOULARD,  rising. — Pierquin! 

MERCADET. — That  is,  he  is  the  man  in  charge  en  the 
purchases.  Go  straight  home ;  I'll  send  him  to  you — 
You  must  not  seem  to  be  running  after  a  buyer. 

GOULARD. — Of  course  not!  You  have  saved  my  life! 
Good- by,  friend.  Madame,  please  accept  my  best 
wishes  for  your  daughter's  happiness.  (Exit  Goulard.} 

MERCADET. — One  of  them  bagged!  I'll  get  them  all, 
one  after  the  other ! 


SCENE   VII 

MADAME   MERCADET.     MERCADET.     Later  JULIE. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Was  it  the  truth  you  told  this 
man  just  now?  I  have  given  up  trying  to  unravel 
what  you  tell  them. 

MERCADET. — It  is  to  my  friend  Verdelin's  interest  to 
create  a  panic  on  Basse-Indre  stock.  The  business  of 


160  MERCADET 

the  company,  which  has  been  quite  poor  so  far,  will  be 
marvelously  improved  by  the  discovery  of  new  veins 
of  ore ;  but  only  the  insiders  know  of  it.  Oh,  if  only  I 
was  able  to  buy  two  or  three  hundred  thousand  francs' 
worth  of  that  stock — I'd  be  a  made  man  again — 
Well,  never  mind  this,  just  now,  Julie's  marriage  is 
the  first  matter  to  attend  to. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — I  hope  you  know  everything 
about  this  Monsieur  de  la  Brive,  my  dear  husband. 

MERCADET. — I  dined  at  his  place  yesterday.  A  most 
charming  flat — superb  silverware  all  marked  with  his 
crest!  Couldn't  have  borrowed  it!  Ah!  this  is  a 
splendid  match  for  our  daughter —  As  for  the  young 
man —  Well,  well,  when  one  of  the  two  parties  to  a 
matrimonial  contract  is  satisfied  that's  a  pretty  good 
average,  I  tell  you — 

(Julie  enters  from  the  right.) 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Here  is  our  daughter,  dear. 
Julie,  your  father  and  I  wish  to  talk  to  you  on  a  sub- 
ject which  is  always  welcome  to  a  young  girl. 

JULIE. — Oh!  Has  Monsieur  Minard  spoken  to  you, 
papa? 

MERCADET.  —  Monsieur  Minard!  Madame,  did  you 
expect  a  Monsieur  Minard  to  be  master  of  your 
daughter's  heart?  By  the  way,  that  Monsieur 
Minard,  is  he  not  a  petty  clerk  of  mine? 

JULIE. — Yes,  papa. 

MERCADET. — And  you  love  him? 

JULIE. — Yes,  papa. 

MERCADET. — To  love  is  easy  enough ;  to  be  loved  is 
the  main  thing. 


MERCADET  161 

MADAME  MERCADET. DOCS  he  loVC  yOU? 

JULIE. — Yes,  mamma. 

MERCADET. — Yes,  papa —  Yes,  mamma —  That's 
baby  talk —  How  is  it  that  full  grown  girls  must  speak 
as  if  they  had  just  emerged  from  the  nursery?  Be 
kind  enough  to  call  your  mother,  ma'am,  so  that  she 
may  get  the  benefit  of  her  beauty  and  persistent  youth. 

JULIE. — Yes,  sir,  I  will. 

MERCADET. — Oh!  you  may  call  me  papa —  I  don't 
mind  it.  Now  tell  me,  what  proof  have  you  that  he 
loves  you. 

JULIE. — The  best  of  all  proofs —  He  wants  to  marry 
me — 

MERCADET. — These  young  girls,  like  nursery  chil- 
dren, have  answers  that  knock  one  down —  Now  listen, 
Mademoiselle —  A  clerk  with  eighteen  hundred  a 
year  salary  does  not  know  how  to  love —  He  hasn't 
got  the  time  for  it — he  owes  it  all  to  his  firm — 

MADAME  MERCADET. My  pOOr  child 

MERCADET. — Oh,  I  have  it!  Let  me  talk  to  her! 
Listen,  Julie,  I  will  let  you  marry  Minard.  (Joyful 
movement  on  the  part  of  Julie.}  Wait —  You  have 
no  money  to  bring  him,  understand —  What  will 
become  of  you,  a  week  after  you  are  married?  Have 
you  thought  of  that? 

JULIE. — Yes,  papa,  I  have. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  kindly  to  her  husband. — The  dear 
child  must  be  crazy — 

MERCADET. — No,  she  is  in  love.  (To  Julie.)  Speak 
out,  Julie ;  I  am  not  your  father  now,  I  am  your  con- 
fidant; go  on. 

JULIE. — After  we  are  married,  we  will  keep  on  lov- 
ing each  other. 


1 62  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — But  is  Cupid  to  offer  you  gold  on  the  tip 
of  his  arrow? 

JULIE. — Papa,  we  shall  live  in  a  small  flat,  on  the 
fifth  story,  if  need  be  and  in  the  most  unpretentious 
of  suburbs!  I'll  be  his  maid-of -all- work —  Oh!  with 
what  delight  will  I  busy  myself  with  household  duties, 
thinking  all  the  time  that  I  am  doing  it  for  him ;  he 
will  be  working  for  me  while  I  work  for  him !  I  will 
save  him  all  the  worry  I  can —  He  will  hardly  notice 
how  poor  we  are ;  our  home  will  be  so  neat,  so  dainty — 
Good  taste  needs  so  little  to  display  itself — it  comes 
from  the  soul,  and  happiness  is  its  cause  as  well  as  its 
effect.  I  can  earn  enough  with  my  brush  to  be  of  no 
expense  to  him  and  even  to  bear  my  share  of  his  load ; 
and  then,  love  will  help  us  live  over  the  hard  days — 
Adolphe  is  full  of  ambition,  like  all  high-minded  men, 
and  he  is  sure  to  succeed — 

MERCADET. — He  might  succeed  as  a  bachelor;  once 
married,  he'll  wear  himself  out  settling  household  bills 
and  spend  his  spare  time  running  after  a  thousand- 
franc  banknote  as  a  dog  follows  a  carriage — 

JULIE. — But,  papa,  Adolphe  has  such  strength  of 
character  and  such  talents  that  he'll  reach  almost  any 
position!  Why,  he  may  be  Secretary  of  State  some 
day — 

MERCADET. — Of  course  he  may —  In  our  time  every- 
body thinks  he'll  be  a  minister  of  something  or  other. 
They  hardly  graduate  from  college  before  they  believe 
themselves  poets,  orators,  statesmen!  Do  you  know 
what  your  Adolphe  really  will  be?  A  father  of  chil- 
dren, who  will  quickly  upset  your  plan  of  a  thrifty  and 
saving  life,  and,  through  the  piling-up  of  debts,  will 
land  his  excellency  in  the  debtor's  jail —  What  you 


MERCADET  163 

just  described,  my  dear  girl,  is  the  romance,  not  the 
reality  of  life.  (He  walks  up  the  stage.) 

MADAME  MERCADET. — My  daughter,  there  is  nothing 
serious  in  this  love  affair. 

JULIE. — It  is  a  love  for  the  sake  of  which  he  and  I 
would  sacrifice  everything. 

MERCADET,  coming  to  tlic  front  again. — By  the  way, 
your  Adolphe  believes  we  are  wealthy,  does  he  not? 

JULIE. — He  never  has  mentioned  money  matters  to 
me. 

MERCADET. — Of  course — I  understand — Julie,  be  kind 
enough  to  write  to  him  at  once  asking  him  to  call  upon 
me — 

JULIE. — Oh,  papa!     (She  kisses  him.) 

MERCADET. — And  you  shall  marry  Monsieur  de  la 
Brive —  Instead  of  a  fifth  floor  flat  in  a  humble 
suburb,  you  will  have,  for  a  home,  a  fine  mansion  on  the 
Chausse"e  d'Antin,  and  if  you  are  not  a  Secretary  of 
State's  wife,  you  may  become  the  life  companion  of  a 
Peer  of  France.  1  am  sorry,  my  child,  not  to  have 
anything  better  to  offer  you.  Besides,  you  will  have 
no  choice :  Monsieur  Minard  will  give  you  up  of  his 
own  accord. 

JULIE. — Never,  papa,  never.  But  he  will  touch  your 
heart — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — And  suppose  he  really  loves 
her? 

MERCADET. — I  tell  you,  she  deceives  herself. 

JULIE. — I  only  wish  never  to  be  worse  deceived. 

(The  door  bell  rings.) 

MADAME  MERCADET. — The  bell  is  ringing,  and  there's 
no  servant  in  the  house  to  open  the  door. 


164  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — Well,  let  it  ring. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — I  cannot  help  imagining  that  it 
is  Godeau  returning  to  us — 

MERCADET. — After  his  eight  years'  absence  you  still 
hope  for  Godeau's  return !  My  dear,  you  remind  me 
of  the  old  Grenadiers,  forever  awaiting  their  Napo- 
leon! 

MADAME  MERCADET,  listening  to  the  door  bell. — It  is 
still  ringing. 

MERCADET. — Julie,  you  may  as  well  go  to  the  door. 
Tell  the  caller  that  your  mother  and  I  are  both  out — 
If  he  does  not  believe  a  young  girl's  statement,  he 
must  be  a  creditor — and  you  may  let  him  in.  (Exit 
Julie,  at  the  back.) 

MADAME  MERCADET. — This  love  outburst  has  touched 
me. 

MERCADET. — You  women  are  full  of  sentimental 
notions. 

JULIE,  entering. — It's  Monsieur  Pierquin,  papa. 

MERCADET. — A  full  fledged  usurer — a  low,  crawling 
creature  who  will  cringe  just  as  long  as  he  thinks  I 
have  any  resources  left — a  kind  of  ferocious  jackal 
held  in  check  by  my  audacity..  If,  for  a  minute,  I 
showed  the  white  feather  he  would  devour  me — 
(Stepping  to  the  door.)  Come  in,  Pierquin,  come  in. 


SCENE   VIII 

THE  SAME.     PIERQUIN. 

PIERQUIN. — I  offer  my  congratulations — I  know  all 
about  the  splendid  match  you  contemplate —    Made- 


MERCADET  165 

moiselle  is  about  to  marry  a  millionaire —  It's  the  talk 
of  the  town. 

MERCADET.  —  A  millionaire.  Oh,  no!  He  is  hardly 
worth  more  than  nine  hundred  thousand. 

PIERQUIN. — This  splendid  advertisement  will  give 
patience  to  many  people —  That  tale  of  Godeau's 
return  was  getting  somewhat  stale,  and  I  myself — 

MERCADET. — You  were  thinking  of  having  me 
arrested — 

JULIE. — Arrested ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. Oh!       Sir! 

PIERQUIN. — Well,  you  see,  my  claim  is  two  years 
overdue,  and  I  never  allow  my  collections  to  fall  so 
much  in  arrears.  However,  this  new  invention  of 
yours — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Invention! 

MERCADET. — Let  me  tell  you,  sir,  that  my  future 
son-in-law,  Monsieur  de  la  Brive,  is  a  young  man  of — 

PIERQUIN. — What!  A  real,  live  young  man?  How 
much  do  you  pay  that  young  man? 

MADAME  MERCADET. Oh! 

MERCADET,  silencing  his  wife  with  a  gesture. — Enough 
impertinence,  sir — or  you  will  force  me  to  ask  for  a 
detailed  settlement  of  our  account — and  I  should  n't 
be  surprised  if  such  proceedings  were  to  cost  you  a 
pretty  penny,  Master  Pierquin.  At  the  rate  you  are 
loaning  your  money,  why,  I  bring  you  in  more  profit 
than  a  regular  gold  mine — 

PIERQUIN. — Sir — 

MERCADET,  haughtily. — Sir,  I'll  soon  be  rich  enough 
not  to  have  to  stand  any  joking — not  even  from  a 
creditor. 

PIERQUIN.  — But — 


1 66  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — Not  a  word— or  I'll  pay  you  your  just 
dues!  Come  into  the  library,  and  we'll  settle  the 
business  for  which  I  sent  for  you. 

PIERQUIN. — At  your  service,  sir.  (Aside.)  The 
extraordinary  man!  (Exit  to  the  left  into  Mercadefs 
library,  and  as  he  passes  the  ladies,  he  bows  respectfully.) 

MERCADET,  walking  behind  him,  to  his  wife. — The  wild 
beast  is  tamed —  Things  will  go  my  way. 

SCENE    IX 

MADAME  MERCADET.       JULIE.       Later  THE  SERVANTS. 

JULIE. — Oh!  Mamma!  I  can  never  marry  Monsieur 
de  la  Brive ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — But  he  is  a  rich  man. 

JULIE. — I  prefer  poverty  and  happiness  to  wealth 
and  wretchedness. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — My  child,  there  is  no  possible 
happiness  in  poverty;  there  is  no  wretchedness  that 
wealth  does  not  alleviate. 

JULIE. — What  disheartening  words! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — The  parents'  experience  ought 
to  be  the  children's  lesson.  The  trials  we  are  going 
through  now  are  a  cruel  illustration  of  life  as  it  really 
is —  My  dear  daughter,  be  wise  and  marry  money. 

JUSTIN,  entering  through  the  door  at  the  back,  followed 
by  Therese  and  Virginie. — Madame,  we  have  executed 
all  Monsieur's  orders. 

VIRGINIE. — Everything  is  on  hand  for  the  dinner. 

THERESE. — The  tradespeople  will  send  their  goods 
this  afternoon. 

JUSTIN. — As  to  Monsieur  Verdclin — 


MERCADET  167 


SCENE   X 

THE  SAME.     MERCADET,  entering  with  papers  in  his  hand. 

MERCADET. — Well,  what  of  my  friend  Verdelin? 

JUSTIN. — He'll  be  down  in  a  moment.  He  was  on 
his  way  to  bring  some  funds  to  Monsieur  Bredif,  the 
owner  of  this  house. 

MERCADET. — Bredif  is  a  millionaire —  You  watch  for 
the  arrival  of  Monsieur  Verdelin  and  have  him  come  to 
me  first.  Well,  Therese,  what  about  the  milliner,  the 
dressmaker? 

THERESE. — Oh!  as  soon  as  I  spoke  of  cash  payment, 
sir,  they  were  all  smiles. 

MERCADET. — All  right — and  the  dinner,  Virginie,  will 
it  be  a  success? 

VIRGINIE. — Monsieur  will  compliment  me. 

MERCADET. — And  the  storekeepers? 

VIRGINIE. — They'll  have  to  wait,  that's  all. 

MERCADET. — I'll  settle  with  you  to-morrow —  I'll 
settle  with  all  of  you —  You  may  go  now!  (Exeunt 
the  servants.)  Just  have  your  servants  on  your  side 
and  you  are  better  off  than  a  minister  with  every 
newspaper  singing  his  praise — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — And  Pierquin. 

MERCADET,  showing  the  bundle  of  papers. — Here  is  all 
I  could  get  out  of  him — a  stoppage  of  the  proceedings 
against  me  and  these  papers,  in  exchange  for  a  few 
shares  of  stock  I  had  left.  This  is  a  claim,  with  judg- 
ment all  complete,  for  47,000  francs  against  a  man 
called  Michonnin,  a  very  insolvent  specimen  of  a  gen- 
tleman-rider, a  very  industrious  kind  of  a  chevalier, 
with  an  old  aunt  living  somewhere  near  Bordeaux. 


168  MERCADET 

Monsieur  de  la  Brive  has  his  estate  over  there.  I'll 
ask  him  if  the  claim  is  worth  anything. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — But  all  our  tradespeople  are 
coming  in  a  few  moments — 

MERCADET. — Let  them  come,  my  dear;  I'll  be  on 
hand  to  receive  them. 

(The  two  ladies  leave  the  room.) 


SCENE   XI 

MERCADET.     Later  VIOLETTE. 

MERCADET,  pacing  the  floor. — Yes,  they  are  coming! 
Everything  now  depends  on  Verdelin's  doubtful 
friendship.  Verdelin,  a  man  whose  fortune  is  my 
work !  Ah !  When  a  man  has  passed  forty  he  ought 
to  know  that  the  world  is  peopled  with  ingrates — 
But  I'll  be  blown  if  I  see  where  the  benefactors  are! 
Verdelin  and  I  have  the  highest  esteem  for  each  other. 
He  owes  me  lots  of  gratitude,  I  owe  him  some  money ; 
neither  of  us  pays  his  debts.  And  to-day,  to  secure 
Julie's  marriage,  I  must  find  three  thousand  francs  in 
a  pocket  that  he  will  surely  declare  to  be  empty — I 
must  break  into  his  heart  to  break  into  his  safe — 
What  an  undertaking!  Adored  women  are  the  only 
beings  that  succeed  in  that  line. 

JUSTIN,  speaking  outside. — Yes,  sir,  he  is  in. 

MERCADET. — Ah!  here  he  comes.  (Walks  to  the  back 
of  the  stage.  Violette  appears.)  My  dear  friend —  Oh! 
is  that  you  Father  Violette? 

VIOLETTE. — This  is  my  eleventh  call  in  a  week,  my 


MERCADET  169 

dear  Monsieur  Mercadet,  and  want,  actual  want  com- 
pelled me  to  wait  for  you  3Testerday,  three  hours,  on 
the  sidewalk ;  finally  I  had  to  believe  what  they  said, 
that  you  had  gone  into  the  country, .but  to-day — well, 
here  I  am. 

MERCADET. — My  poor,,Father  Violette,  we  are  just  as 
hard  up,  you  and  I ! 

VIOLETTE. — I  hardly  think  so —  At  home  we  have 
had  to  pawn  everything  we  possessed. 

MERCADET. — That's  just  what  we  have  begun  to  do 
here. 

VIOLETTE. — I  never  before  have  approached  you  with 
the  tale  of  my  absolute  financial  ruin —  You  thought 
you  would  make  us  both  rich —  But  talk  pays  no 
bills,  so  I  am  compelled  to  ask  you  for  a  little  some- 
thing to  apply  on  the  interest  due — I  don't  ask — I 
actually  beg  of  you,  for  the  sake  of  a  starving  family — 

MERCADET. — Father  ^Violette,  you  break  my  heart! 
Be  of  good  cheer,  I'll  divide  with  you.  (Lowering  Ms 
voice.}  We  have  hardly  one  hundred  francs  in  the 
house  and  it's  my  daughter's  own  pin  money — 

VIOLETTE. — Is  that  possible!  You,  Mercadet,  whom 
I  have  known  so  rich! 

MERCADET. — I  am  hiding  nothing  from  you. 

VIOLETTE. — Unfortunates  owe  each  other  the  truth ! 

MERCADET. — Oh!  if  they  owed  only  that,  how 
quickly  accounts  would  be  ignored!  Bat,  keep  my 
secret;  my  daughter  is  just  about  to  marry. 

VIOLETTE. — I  have  two  daughters,  sir,  and  they  both 
work,  work  without  hope  of  ever  marrying —  I  hate 
to  trouble  you  in  the  circumstances  you  mention — but 
my  wife,  my  girls,  are  awaiting  my  return  with  such 
anguish — 


1 70  MERCADET 

MERC ADET.— All  right  then,  I'll  give  you  sixty 
francs.  (Goes  out  by  the  door  at  the  left.) 

VIOLET TE. — How  my  wife  and  daughters  will  bless 
you,  sir.  (Aside  while  Mer  cadet  is  absent  from  the  room.) 
The  others  harass  him  and  get  nothing;  but,  by  com- 
plaining and  begging  as  I  do,  I  manage  to  get  my 
little  interest  money,  he!  he!  (He  chuckles^  while 
tapping  his  waistcoat  pocTcet.) 

MERCADET,  entering,  sees  the  gesture  of  triumphant 
glee. — (Aside.)  What?  Oh,  the  old  miserly  beggar! 
Sixty  francs  on  account,  paid  ten  times,  come  to  600 
francs !  Well — I  have  sowed  enough,  now  is  harvest 
time!  (Aloud.)  Here  is  the  money. 

VIOLET  TE. — Sixty  francs!  and  in  gold!  How  long 
it  is  since  I  have  seen  as  much — Good-by,  sir;  we 
shall  pray  for  Mademoiselle's  happiness! 

MERCADET. — Good-bye,  Father  Violette.  (Keeping  the 
hand  he  has  grasped.)  Poor  fellow,  every  time  I  see 
you,  I  feel  almost  ill —  Your  misfortune  touches  me 
to  the  quick —  And,  think  of  it,  yesterday  I  thought 
I  saw  myself  on  the  eve  of  paying  back  all  I  owe, 
principal  and  interest — 

VIOLETTE. — Of  paying  me  back — everything — 

MERCADET. — It  came  within  a  hair's  breadth! 

VIOLETTE. — Oh,  tell  me  about  it! 

MERCADET. — Just  imagine,  my  dear  man,  the  most 
brilliant  discovery,  the  most  stupendous  speculation, 
the  most  sublime  invention!  Something  that  appeals 
to  all,  that  will  open  every  purse,  and  for  the  realiza- 
tion of  which  a  stupid  banker  refused  me  the  pitiful 
sum  of  three  thousand  francs — when  there  is  a  clear 
million  in  sight! 

VIOLETTE. — A  million! 


MERCADET  171 

MERCADET. — A  million  to  start  with,  because,  when 
fairly  launched,  nobody  knows  where  the  popularity 
of  the — of  the  "conservative  pavement"  will  stop — 

VIOLET TE. — The  "conservative — 

MERCADET. — Pavement.  "  A  pavement  that  renders 
all  barricades,  all  rioting,  impossible.  Hence,  the 
name — 

VIOLETTE. — Yon  don't  say  so! 

MERCADET. — I  do —  You  see  how  every  govern- 
ment, deeply  interested  in  the  continuance  of  peace 
and  order  in  the  streets,  will  become  our  first  stock- 
holders—  Nothing  but  ministers,  princes,  kings  even 
— are  to  be  our  original  subscribers —  In  their  train 
will  come  the  Napoleons  of  finance,  the  great  capital- 
ists, bankers  and  speculators  of  all  grades  and  sizes — 
even  the  socialistic  agitators,  foreseeing  the  ruin  of 
their  business  will  have  to  buy  our  stock  to  get  some 
money  to  live  on ! 

VIOLETTE. — Ah!     That's  splendid!     That's  great! 

MERCADET. — More  than  that —  It's  sublime!  It's 
philanthropic !  And  to  think  of  those  poor  fools  refus- 
ing me  4,000  francs  for  the  expenses  of  promotion. 

VIOLETTE. — Four  thousand  francs !    I  thought  it  was — 

MERCADET. — Four  thousand  francs!  Not  a  franc 
more!  And  I  offered  half  the  profits!  A  fortune,  ten 
fortunes ! 

VIOLETTE. — Listen!  Listen!  I'll  look  around — I'll 
speak  to  somebody ! 

MERCADET. — On  your  life,  don't  say  a  word!  Why 
they  would  rob  us  of  the  idea — or  again,  they  might 
not  grasp  it  as  quickly,  as  intelligently  as  you  did,  just 
now —  These  moneyed  people  are  so  stupid !  Then, 
besides,  I  expect  Verdelin,  every  minute — 


172  MERCADET 

VIOLETTE. — Verdelin —     Well,  one  might — perhaps — 

MERCADET. — Lucky  Verdelin !  What  a  fortune  for 
him  if  he'll  just  put  up  six  thousand  francs — 

VIOLETTE. — But  you  spoke  of  four  thousand  francs,  a 
moment  ago. 

MERCADET. — They  refused  me  four  thousand  francs — 
but  the  business  needs  six  thousand!  By  just  invest- 
ing six  thousand  francs,  Verdelin,  whom  I  have  already 
made  a  millionaire  will  become  two,  three,  four  times, 
a  millionaire — and  it  will  be  fair  enough,  for,  after 
all,  Verdelin  is  a  wide-awake  fellow! 

VIOLETTE. — Mercadet,  I'll  find  you  that  amount. 

MERCADET. — No,  no,  it's  no  use.  He  is  on  his  way 
here,  and  if  I  am  not  to  close  the  deal  with  him,  it  will 
have  to  be  closed  with  another  before  his  arrival. 
This,  of  course,  being  out  of  the  question,  all  I  can  do 
is  to  say,  to  you,  good-by — and  be  of  good  cheer — 
you'll  get  back  your  30,000  francs. 

VIOLETTE. — But  I  say,  couldn't  we? — couldn't  I — ? 

MADAME  MERCADET,  entering. — Monsieur  Verdelin  has 
just  arrived,  my  dear. 

MERCADET,  aside. — That's  pat —  (Aloud.}  Please 
keep  him  in  the  next  room  a  few  minutes.  (Exit 
Madame  Mercadet.)  Good-by,  Father  Violette — 

VIOLETTE,  pulling  out  a  greasy  pocketbook. — Stay — 
just  a  moment — I  have  the  amount  with  me,  and  I'll 
close  the  deal  right  now. 

MERCADET. — You — with  6,000  francs  in  your  pocket! 

VIOLETTE. — Yes— a  friend  of  mine  asked  me  to  find 
him  an  investment — 

MERCADET. — You  could  find  no  better  one —  Later 
in  the  afternoon,  we  shall  sign  an  agreement!  (He 


MERCADET  173 

takes  iht  banknotes.)  Here  goes —  Verdelin  is  losing 
the  chance  of  his  life ! 

VIOLETTE. — Until  later — 

MERCADET. — Yes,  I'll  send  for  you —  Come  this 
way.  (He  leads  him  out  through  the  library  door  to  the 
left ;  as  the  door  closes  Madame  Mer cadet  enters.) 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Monsieur  Mercadet! 

MERCADET,  coming  do^un  the  stage. — My  dear  wife,  I 
am  a  fool,  a  wretched  fool,  I  ought  to  blow  my  brains 
out! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Oh,  Lord!  what  is  the  matter? 

MERCADET. — The  matter!  Why,  a  minute  ago  I 
struck  father  Violette — this  humbug  of  a  pretended 
broken-down  capitalist — for  six  thousand  francs — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — And  he  refused  you? 

MERCADET. — On  the  contrary,  he  handed  them  over 
right  away — 

MADAME  MERCADET. Well  then? 

MERCADET. — Why,  like  a  fool,  I  had  to  take  the  paltry 
six  thousand  when  it  would  have  been  just  as  easy  to 
have  gotten  ten  thousand  francs  out  of  him. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — What  an  extraordinary  man 
you  are !  By  the  way,  you  have  forgotten  that  Ver- 
delin is  waiting  for  you  in  the  next  room. 

MERCADET. — That's  all  right.  Tell  him  to  come  in 
here.  I  have  now  collected  enough  money  for  Julie's 
trousseau;  next,  I  must  get  hold  of  the  funds  neces- 
sary for  household  expenses  and  your  dressmaker's 
bill,  so  as  to  carry  us  through  until  after  the  marriage 
has  actually  taken  place.  By  all  means,  send  Ver- 
delin to  me. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Oh!  He  is  our  friend;  he'll  let 
you  have  what  you  need.  (Exit  Madame  Mercadet.) 


174  MERCADET 

MERCADET,  alone. — A  friend — a  friend —  We'll  see. 
He  is  all  puffed  up  with  his  money —  He  has  not  been 
swindled  yet  by  a  scamp  of  a  Godeau.  (Looking  round 
to  see  if  he  is  alone.}  Godeau —  Well,  I  wonder 
whether  the  fellow's  embezzlement  has  not  helped  me 
make  more  money  than  he  took  away  with  him — 


SCENE    XII 

MERCADET.     VERDELIN. 

VERDELIN. — How  do,  Mercadet?  What  is  it  you 
want?  Your  man  stopped  me  on  my  way  up  to 
Bredif's. 

MERCADET. — Oh!  Bredif  can  wait!  I  am  surprised 
that  a  man  like  you  should  call  on  such  a  fellow. 

VERDELIN,  laughing. — If  we  called  only  on  the  people 
we  respect  I'm  afraid  one's  visiting  list  would  be 
rather  short. 

MERCADET,  laughing  and  shaking  him  by  the  hand. — 
One  might  even  feel  like  not  returning  home. 

VERDELIN. — Well,  now  what  do  you  want  of  me? 

MERCADET. — You  do  not  leave  me  time  enough  to 
gild  the  pill —  Have  you  not  guessed  what  I  am 
after? 

VERDELIN. — My  poor  comrade,  I  can  do  nothing 
more  for  you.  I  have  not  the  ready  money,  and"  even 
if  I  had  it,  I  feel  I  have  gone  far  enough.  All  I  could 
possibly  spare  I  have  let  you  have,  and  you'll  admit 
that  I  never  have  asked  you  to  return  one  franc.  I  am 
your  friend,  as  well  as  your  creditor.  But,  honestly, 
if  I  were  not  by  nature  a  grateful  man,  if  I  were  an 


MERCADET  175 

ordinary,  everyday  individual,  the  creditor  in  me 
would  have  killed  the  friend  long  ago — I  tell  you, 
there  is  a  limit  to  everything — 

MERCADET. — There  are  limits  to  friendship— none  to 
misfortune. 

VERDELIN. — If  I  were  rich  enough  to  save  you  for 
good  and  all,  to  pay  your  debts  in  full,  I'd  do  it  at 
once,  and  with  my  whole  heart;  for  I  admire  your 
indomitable  pluck.  But  it  can't  be  done,  and  so  you 
had  best  give  in  to  the  inevitable.  Your  latest  under- 
takings, clever  though  they  were,  have  utterly  failed ; 
you  are  in  the  way  of  losing  your  reputation ;  in  fact, 
you  are  becoming  quite  a  dangerous  man —  You 
did  not  even  manage  to  make  the  best  of  the  short- 
lived success  of  your  operations!  Now,  let  me  tell 
you,  Mercadet,  the  moment  you  are  really  gone  to 
pieces,  you  will  find  me  ready  to  furnish  you  something 
to  live  on —  Until  then —  Well,  a  friend's  duty  is  to 
tell  us  such  things. 

MERCADET. — What  would  friendship  be  worth  if  it 
did  not  give  us  the  right  to  find  ourselves  as  wise  as 
our  friends  appear  foolish,  of  feeling  comfortable 
when  they  are  in  trouble,  of  paying  ourselves  compli- 
ments while  telling  them  all  sorts  of  disagreeable 
things?  So,  then,  on  the  Bourse,  they  rate  me  a 
scamp? 

VERDELIN. — Not  quite  as  bad  as  that,  yet;  they  still 
consider  you  an  honest  man,  but  you  are  driven  now 
to  such  expedients — 

MERCADET. — And  they  are  not  being  justified  by  suc- 
cess— I  understand.  Ah!  Success!  Of  how  many 
infamies  is  it  made,  I  wonder?  Now,  here  is  a  case, 
listen —  This  morning  I  started  a  bear  campaign 


176  MERCADET 

against  the  Basse- Indre  mining  stock;  I  know  you  want 
to  get  it  under  your  control,  before  the  latest  engi- 
neer's report  comes  out,  with  its  favorable — 

VERDELIN. — Hush!  Hush!  You  are  right,  Mer- 
cadet,  how  clever  you  are!  (He pats  him  on  the  back.} 

MERCADET. — I  just  want  you  to  understand  that  I 
need  none  of  your  advice  and  moralizing — nothing  but 
your  money.  Alas!  I  am  not  begging  for  myself, 
but  for  my  daughter's  sake —  She  is  about  to  be  mar- 
ried, and,  here,  in  this  house,  we  have  reached  the 
limits  of  secret  want.  You  are  in  a  home  where  dire 
poverty  is  covered  from  view  by  a  thin  layer  of  lux- 
ury. But  we  have  reached  the  point,  where  credit  is 
dead,  promises  are  of  no  avail,  and  if  I  cannot  provide 
the  cash  for  a  few  indispensable  outlays,  this  marriage 
will  fall  through.  I  need  but  two  weeks  of  apparent 
wealth,  just  as  you  want  but  twenty-four  hours  of 
time  in  which  to  fool  the  Stock  Exchange.  Verdelin, 
I'll  not  come  to  you  twice  with  the  same  request;  I 
have  but  one  daughter.  Must  I  tell  you  the  worst? 
My  wife  and  Julie  have  not  a  decent  gown  to  their 
backs — 

VERDELIN,  aside. — He  has  acted  so  many  comedies  for 
my  benefit,  that  I  can  hardly  believe  this  story  about 
his  daughter's  marriage —  Who  would  marry  her, 
under  the  circumstances  ? 

MERCADET. — To-night  I  am  giving  a  formal  dinner 
to  my  future  son-in-law,  whom  a  mutual  friend  is  to 
introduce  to  the  ladies ;  and  my  silverware  is  gone — 
you  know  where —  Not  only  do  I  need  three  thousand 
francs,  but  also  the  loan  of  your  silver —  Besides,  you 
and  your  wife  must  dine  with  us. 

VERDELIN.  —Three  thousand  francs,  Mercadet !    Why, 


MERCADET  177 

nobody  has  such  a  sum  in  his  house ;  not  to  lend,  any- 
way; if  one  loaned  such  sums  all  the  time,  one  would 
never  have  anything  for  his  own  use —  (He  walks  to 
the  mantel-piece. ) 

MERCADET,  following  him,  aside. — I'll  land  him  yet. 
(Aloud.)  Verdelin,  you  know  how  dearly  I  love  my 
wife  and  daughter;  that  love  has  been  my  sole  conso- 
lation in  my  recent  disaster ;  they  are  both  so  gentle, 
so  patient —  If  I  only  could  see  them  out  of  this  awful 
situation!  Ah!  This  is  my  greatest  sorrow!  (They 
come  down  the  stage  arm  in  arm.)  In  these  last  few 
years,  I  have  had  to  swallow  the  bitterest  pills,  I  have 
slipped  upon  my  wood  pavement;  I  have  organized 
monopolies  only  to  see  myself  swindled  out  of  my 
share  of  the  profits!  But  all  these  disappointments 
would  be  as  nothing  compared  to  a  refusal  on  your 
part  in  such  a  critical  time.  I  will  not  tell  you  to  what 
rash  act  it  might  lead  me,  for  I  am  not  appealing  to 
your  pity — 

VERDELIN,  sitting  down,  at  Mercadefs  right. — Three 
thousand  francs!  Now,  what  use  would  you  make  of 
that  money? 

MERCADET,  aside. — It  is  mine!  (Aloud.)  Don't  you 
know,  my  dear  fellow,  that  a  prospective  son-in-law  is 
a  bird  the  least  little  blunder  will  frighten  away?  For 
him,  a  yard  of  lace  missing  on  a  gown  might  prove  a 
revelation!  Now,  I  have  ordered  the  dresses;  the 
tradesmen  will  be  here  in  a  few  moments  with  all  our 
purchases  of  finery —  Yes,  I  was  rash  enough  to  send 
them  word  to  bring  along  their  goods,  and  that  they 
would  be  paid  on  delivery — I  felt  so  sure  of  you! 
Verdelin,  three  thousand  francs  won't  break  you,  with 
your  sixty  thousand  a  year,  and  it  will  be  like  giving 


1 78  MERCADET 

a  new  lease  of  life  to  the  poor  child  you  are  so  fond  of. 
For  you  love  Julie !  She  dotes  on  your  little  girl ;  they 
play  together  like  the  blessed  darlings  they  are!  Will 
you  allow  your  daughter's  friend  to  wither  on  the 
branch?  Have  a  care,  it's  contagious!  It  brings  ill- 
luck! 

VERDELIN. — My  dear  man,  I  tell  you  I  have  not  three 
thousand  francs  in  ready  cash;  I'll  lend  you  my  silver, 
all  right,  but — 

MERCADET. — Signing  a  check  will  take  but  a  minute — 

VERDELIN,  rising. — I —    Once  for  all,  no! 

MERCADET. — O,  my  poor  child!  your  fate  is  settled! 
(As  if  crushed  he  drops  into  an  arm-chair.)  May  God 
pardon  me  for  closing  abruptly  this  sad  nightmare  of 
a  life,  to  awaken  in  His  bosom ! 

VERDELIN,  crosses  the  stage  silently. — Now,  tell  me  the 
truth —  Have  you  really  found  a  son-in-law? 

MERCADET,  jumping  out  of  his  chair. — Have  I  found  a 
son-in-law!  You  doubt  my  word?  Ah!  Verdelin, 
you  may  refuse  me  the  means  of  securing  my  daugh- 
ter's happiness,  but  to  insult  me  like  this!  For  three 
thousand  francs,  I  would  not  have  harbored  such  a 
thought  concerning  you !  You  can  only  win  pardon  by 
letting  me  have  that  money — 

VERDELIN,  starting  for  the  door. — I'll  see  whether  I  can 
manage  it — 

MERCADET. — No,  that's  only  a  way  of  getting  rid  of 
me.  What !  You,  whom  I  have  seen  so  often  spend 
much  larger  amounts  for  a  petty  satisfaction  of  vanity, 
for  a  passing  fancy,  you  refuse  to  invest  a  paltry  three 
thousand  in  a  generous  action — 

VERDELIN. — Good  investments  are  rare  nowadays. 
(He  laughs.) 


MERCADET  179 

MERCADET,  laughing  also. — A  capital  joke!  You 
laugh,  I  am  saved.  ( Verdelin,  laughing  still,  drops  his 
silk  hat.  Mercadet  picks  it  up  and  brushes  it  on  his 
sleeve.}  Say,  old  man,  didn't  we  have  fun  together  in 
the  old  days?  For  we  began  life  hand  in  hand;  we 
were  to  be  chums  until  death  us  did  part,  don't  you 
remember? 

VERDELIN. — Indeed  I  do.  Say,  don't  you  recall  our 
trip  to  Rambouillet  when  I  had  to  fight  a  duel  with  an 
officer  in  the  Royal  Guard,  all  on  your  account — 

MERCADET. — I  thought  you  fought  for  the  lovely  eyes 
of  Clarissa,  your  former  sweetheart?  How  young  we 
were  then —  And,  to-day,  we  have  daughters  of  mar- 
riageable age !  Ah !  If  Clarissa  were  alive,  now,  she 
would  reproach  your  for  your  hesitation  in  coming  to 
my  rescue. 

VERDELIN. — Had  Clarissa  lived  I  should  never  have 
married  any  one  else. 

MERCADET. — That  shows  how  truly  you  can  love! 
And  that's  why  I  count  upon  you  to  come  to  dinner 
to-night,  and  to  give  me  your  word  to  send  me — 

VERDELIN. — My  silverware,  yes — 

MERCADET. — And  the  three  thousand  francs  also. 

VERDELIN. — You  insist !  I  told  you  I  could  not  pos- 
sibly do  it. 

MERCADET,  aside. — This  man  certainly  will  not  die  of 
heart  trouble.  (Aloud.)  Shall  it  be  that  my  best 
friend  will  cause  my  death?  Alas!  It's  always  so! 
Nothing  can  move  him —  Not  even  the  remembrance 
of  Clarissa  or  the  despair  of  a  father  reduced  to  the 
last  straits!  (Shouting  in  the  direction  of  his  wife's 
room.)  All  is  over!  No  use  struggling  any  longer! 
You'll  see  me  blow  out  my  brains — 


180  MERCADET 

SCENE  XIII 

THE  PRECEDING.     MADAME  MERCADET.     JULIE. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  in  great  agitation. — What  is  it? 
What  is  it? 

JULIE. — Father,  your  voice  frightened  us! 

MERCADET. — The  poor  things  heard  me!  You  see, 
they  rush  in,  as  my  two  guardian  angels !  (He  takes 
them  by  the  hand.)  My  dears,  you  move  me  deeply. 
(To  Verdelin.)  Verdelin,  do  you  really  want  to  kill  us 
all?  This  proof  of  their  devoted  love  gives  me  the 
courage  to  fall  at  your  feet.  (He  almost  kneels  down.) 

JULIE,  stopping  her  father. — Ah!  sir,  let  me  be  the 
one  to  implore  him  for  you —  (To  Verdelin.)  What- 
ever it  may  be  he  is  asking  of  you,  grant  it  to  him,  sir 
— he  must  be  in  grievous  need,  if  he  has  to  beg  for  it 
in  this  manner. 

MERCADET,  coming  down  the  stage  again. — My  darling! 
(Aside.)  What  accents  she  has!  I  cannot  be  so  true 
to  life. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Monsieur  Verdelin,  listen  to  us! 

VERDELIN,  to  Julie. — Have  you  any  idea  of  what  he 
wants  of  me? 

JULIE. — None,  whatever. 

VERDELIN. — He  wants  three  thousand  francs  to  help 
marry  you — 

JULIE. — If  that  is  his  purpose,  sir,  never  mind  my 
request —  I'll  not  accept  a  husband  bought  with  my 
father's  humiliation ! 

MERCADET,  aside. — She  is  splendid! 

VERDELIN,  much  moved. — Julie,  I  will  go  straight  home 
and  get  you  that  money.  (He  walks  out  through  the 
center  door  back  of  the  stage.) 


MERCADET  181 


SCENE    XIV 

THE  PRECEDING,  minus  VERDELIN.      Then 
THE  SERVANTS. 

JULIE. — Oh  father!     Why  didn't  you  tell  me — ? 

MERCADET,  kissing  her. — You  simply  saved  us,  dear — 
Ah !  When  shall  I  be  rich  and  powerful  again  to  make 
him  pay  for  his  kindness  ! 

MADAME  MERCADET.  — Do  not  be  unfair —  He  did 
give  in,  after  all. 

MERCADET. — He  gave  in  to  Julie's  appeal,  not  to 
my  supplications.  My  dear,  he  has  put  me  through 
more  than  three  thousand  francs  worth  of  humilia- 
tions! 

JUSTIN,  entering  from  the  back,  with  Therese  and  Vir- 
ffinie. — They  are  all  here,  sir. 

VIRGINIE. — The  milliner  and  the  dressmaker. 

THERESE. — And  the  clerks  from  the  dry-goods  stores. 

MERCADET,  to  himself. — I  have  succeeded!  My 
daughter  shall  yet  be  Countess  de  la  Brive.  (To  the 
servants.)  Bring  them  all  to  me!  I'm  waiting!  The 
cash  is  here.  (Head  erect,  he  walks  toward  the  door  of 
his  study;  the  servants  look  at  him  amazed.) 

(ACT  CURTAIN.) 


ACT    SECOND. 

(Mercadet's  private  study,  in  his  apartment,  A  door  at  the 
back  of  the  stage.  Windows  in  the  corners.  Bookcases  between 
the  windows  and  the  door.  To  the  left,  in  the  foreground,  a  large 
safe.  To  the  right,  an  upright  desk.  To  the  left,  toward  the  back 
of  the  stage,  aflat  desk  used  by  Mercadet,  forming  a  right  angle 
with  a  bookcase  and  an  arm-chair,  the  back  of  the  latter  being 
turned  to  the  window.  To  the  left,  near  the  safe,  another  arm- 
chair. To  the  right,  near  the  upright  desk,  a  sofa. ) 


SCENE    I 

MINARD.     JUSTIN.     Later  JULIE. 

MINARD,  from  the  back. — You  say  that  Monsieur  Mer- 
cadet wants  to  see  me? 

JUSTIN. — Yes,  sir,  he  does;  but  Mademoiselle  has 
instructed  me  to  have  you  wait  for  him  here. 

MINARD,  aside. — Her  father  sends  for  me — and  she 
wishes  to  see  me  before  the  interview  takes  place. 
Something  strange  is  in  the  air. 

JUSTIN. — Here  is  Mademoiselle. 

MINARD,  rushing  to  her. — Mademoiselle  Julie! 

JULIE. — Justin,  inform  my  father  that  Monsieur 
Minard  is  here.  (Justin  leaves  through  the  back  door.) 
Adolphe,  if  you  want  our  love  to  shine  as  purely  before 
everyone's  eyes  as  it  does  in  our  hearts,  you  must 
show  as  much  courage  as  I  will. 

182 


MERCADET  183 

MINARD. — What  has  happened? 

JULIE. — Another  suitor  for  my  hand,  young  and 
wealthy,  has  come  forward,  and  my  father  will  be 
pitiless. 

MINARD. — What  did  you  say?  A  rival!  And  you 
asked  me  if  I  felt  courageous?  Just  tell  me  his 
name,  Julie,  and  you  will  soon  be  convinced — 

JULIE. — Adolphe,  you  make  me  shudder!  If  you 
imagine,  for  a  moment,  that  such  conduct  would 
soften  my  father — 

MINARD,  noticing  Mercadet. — Here  he  comes! 


SCENE    II 

THE  PRECEDING.      MERCADET. 

MERCADET,  from  the  lack  of  the  stage. — So  you  are  in 
love  with  my  daughter,  sir? 

MINARD. — I  am,  sir. 

MERCADET. — That  is,  she  thinks  you  are;  you  were 
clever  enough  to  persuade  her  of  the  fact — 

MINARD. — You  express  a  doubt  that  would  offend  me 
greatly  if  it  came  from  any  one  else,  sir.  But  how 
could  I  not  love  your  daughter?  She  is  the  only  one 
who  ever  manifested  heartfelt  sympathy  for  me,  a 
man  forsaken  by  his  own  kin  and  left  without  an 
affection  in  the  world.  Mademoiselle  Julie  is  to  me 
both  a  sister  and  the  dearest  of  friends;  I  have  no 
other  family.  She  alone  has  smiled  to  me,  and  sus- 
tained me  with  her  affection !  How  could  I  not  love 
her  beyond  expression? 

JULIE. — Must  I  remain,  father? 


184  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — O  you  greedy  little  one!  (Addressing 
Minard.)  Minard,  concerning  love  I  entertain  those 
matter-of-fact  ideas  for  believing  in  which  elderly  peo- 
ple are  so  harshly  judged  by  the  younger  generation.  I 
am  all  the  more  suspicious  in  your  case,  because  I  am 
not  one  of  those  fathers  who  are  blinded  by  paternal 
illusions.  I  see  Julie  just  as  she  is;  I  don't  say  that 
she  is  plain,  but  her  beauty  is  not  of  a  kind  to  call 
forth  admiring  exclamations.  It  is  of  the  average 
order,  no  more. 

MINARD. — You  are  mistaken,  sir;  allow  me  to  say 
that  you  do  not  know  your  daughter. 

MERCADET. — Well,  well,  I  declare — 

MINARD. — I  repeat  it;  you  do  not  know  her,  sir. 

MERCADET. — But  I  tell  you,  my  dear  fellow,  I  know 
her,  I  know  her  perfectly,  as  well  as  if — 

MINARD. — No,  sir,  you  do  not! 

MERCADET. — Monsieur  Minard! 

MINARD. — Of  course  you  know  the  Julie  who  is 
familiar  to  everybody  in  her  home-circle.  But  love 
has  transformed  her ;  it  has  endowed  her  with  an  ex- 
quisite beauty  that  is  my  own  creation. 

JULIE. — Father,  I  am  ashamed  to  listen — 

MERCADET. — You  mean,  delighted — I  dare  say  that 
you  told  her  such  things  frequently — 

MINARD. — I  will  repeat  them  a  hundred  times,  a  thou- 
sand times —  It  cannot  be  wrong  to  do  so,  as  long  as 
her  father  is  listening! 

MERCADET. — You  flatter  me  greatly.  I  thought  I 
was  her  father,  but  you  seem  to  have  brought  forth 
another  Julie  whose  acquaintance  I  should  be  charmed 
to  make. 

MINARD. — Were  you  never  in  love? 

MERCADET. — Of  course  I  have  been  in  love.     Like 


MERCADET  185 

most  men  I  have  dragged  along  this  heavy,  golden 
ball! 

MINARD. — But  now  we  love  much  better  than  you 
used  to. 

MERCADET. — And  how  do  you  do  that,  if  I  may  ask? 

MINARD. — We  attach  ourselves  to  the  soul,  to  the 
ideal  nature. 

MERCADET. — In  my  younger  days,  we  called  this 
blindfolded  love. 

MINARD. — This  is  the  pure  and  holy  love  that  fills 
with  delight  every  hour  of  one's  life. 

MERCADET. — The  hours  of  meals  not  included,  I  am 
afraid. 

JULIE. — Father,  do  not  mock  the  love  of  two  young 
people  bound  to  each  other  by  a  true,  pure  attach- 
ment, by  an  affection  based 'on  their  knowledge  of  each 
other's  character,  on  the  absolute  faith  in  their  ability 
to  triumph  over  the  difficulties  of  life —  Do  not  make 
fun  of  two  children  who  will  love  you  so  tenderly. 

MINARD,  to  Mercadet. — Listen  to  this  angel,  sir. 

MERCADET,  aside. — An  angel!  (He  slips  one  arm 
o£  Julie  under  his  left  arm  and  one  arm  of  Minard  under 
his  right.)  You  happy  children!  So  you  love  each 
other  dearly?  What  a  sweet  example  of  romance! 
(To  Minard.)  You  want  her  as  your  wife? 

MINARD. — I  do,  sir. 

MERCADET. — In  spite  of  all  obstacles? 

MINARD. — I  am  ready  to  overcome  every  one  of  them 

JULIE. — Father,  you  are  not  grateful  to  me  for 
bringing  to  you  a  son  gifted  with  such  lofty  ideals, 
with  a  soul  that — ? 

MINARD,  with  a  gesture  of  protest. — Oh,  Mademoiselle! 

JULIE. — Let  me  finish,  sir — I  will  also  have  my  say. 


186  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — Daughter,  you  had  best  go  to  your 
mother,  now.  This  gentleman  and  I  must  talk  over 
matters  not  quite  so  ethereal. 

JULIE. — I  go,  father. 

MERCADET. — Come  back  with  your  mother,  in  a  few 
moments,  child.  (He  kisses  her  on  the  forehead  and 
leads  her  to  the  door.) 

MINARD,  aside. — I  feel  hopeful. 

MERCADET,  coming  down  the  stage. — My  dear  sir,  I  am 
a  ruined  man. 

MINARD. — What  do  you  mean! 

MERCADET. — I  mean  that  I  am  a  total  financial 
wreck —  If  you  really  want  my  Julie,  she  will  be 
truly  yours.  Your  home,  poor  as  it  may  be  cannot 
fail  to  be  more  comfortable  than  her  parents'  house. 
Not  only  has  she  no  dowry,  but  she  is  handicapped 
with  penniless  parents.  We  are  worse  than  penniless. 

MINARD. — Worse  than  penniless —  How  can  such  a 
thing  be?  , 

MERCADET. — Why,  sir,  we  have  debts,  piles  of  debts, 
terribly  pressing  debts — 

MINARD. — No,  no — it  is  not  possible. 

MERCADET. — You  cannot  believe  me?  (Aside.)  He 
is  obstinate.  (Walking  to  the  desk  and  picking  up  a 
bundle  of  papers.)  Look  over  these  documents,  my 
would-be  son-in-law;  they'll  tell  you  everything  about 
my  fortune — 

MINARD,  with  a  gesture  of  protest. — Monsieur  Mer- 
cadet! 

MERCADET. — My  negative  fortune.  Read  this —  A 
sheriff's  inventory  of  our  furniture. 

MINARD. — Is  this  possible. 

MERCADET. — Of  course  it  is  possible —     Here  is  a 


MERCADET  187 

whole  handful  of  summonses —  An  order  of  arrest  in 
a  civil  suit —  It's  dated  yesterday,  so,  you  see,  things 
are  looking  pretty  black —  Finally,  in  this  other  large 
bundle,  are  copies  of  all  the  judgments  entered  against 
me.  Oh!  everything  is  in  perfect  order,  for  never 
does  a  man  need  more  order  in  his  papers  than  when 
his  affairs  are  in  the  worst  disorder.  A  well-classified 
disorder,  one  domineers  over  it,  so  to  speak.  What 
can  a  creditor  say  when  he  finds  his  claim  properly 
and  neatly  docked  and  filed  under  its  number?  I  fol- 
low the  government's  red  tape  habits  and  have 
arranged  my  evidences  of  indebtedness  in  alphabetical 
order.  So  far,  I  have  not  taken  up  letter  A.  (He 
places  the  bundles  back  on  the  desk.) 

MINARD. — You  mean,  you  have  not  paid  anything 
yet? 

MERCADET. — Hardly  a  franc —  Now,  you,  in  the 
office,  know  what  the  running  expenses  of  my  business 
are — you  are  an  expert  bookkeeper —  (He  walks  back 
to  Ms  desk.)  Look  at  these  figures:  three  hundred  and 
eighty  thousand! — 

MINARD. — I  see  this  is  the  total  of  your  liabilities  up 
to  date. 

MERCADET. — Now  you  understand  how  I  shuddered 
when  I  heard  you  bewildering  my  daughter  with  your 
fine  protestations  of  love.  For,  I  tell  you  sir,  to  marry 
a  dowerless  girl  on  an  eighteen  hundred-franc  salary 
is  like  mating  a  notice  of  protest  with  a  court  sum- 
mons. 

MINARD,  sunk  in  thotig  Jit.— Ruined  (  Absolutely 
ruined ! 

MERCADET,  aside.—  Just  what  I  thought—  (Aloud.) 
Well,  young  man,  what  have  you  got  to  say? 


1 88  MERCADET 

MINARD.— I  have,  first,  to  thank  you,  sir,  for  the 
frankness  of  your  statement. 

MERCADET.— That's  all  right—  But  now  what  about 
your  ideal  love  for  my  daughter? 

MINAKD. — My  love  for  Julie?  You  have  opened  my 
eyes,  sir. 

MERCADET,  aside. — That's  it — 

MINARD. — I  thought  my  love  for  her  boundless,  but  I 
see  now  that  I  love  her  a  thousand  times  more  than  I 
had  any  idea  of. 

MERCADET. — What?  What  do  you  say?  Explain 
yourself ! 

MINARD. — Did  you  not  tell  me  just  now  that  she  had 
need  of  all  my  courage,  all  my  devotion !  It  will  not 
be  my  tenderness  alone  that  will  make  her  happy,  I'll 
earn  her  gratitude,  thanks  to  my  efforts,  thanks  to  my 
indefatigable  labor. 

MERCADET. — Then  you  still  want  to  marry  her? 

MINARD. — Want  to  marry  her !  Why,  when  I  believed 
you  a  rich  man,  it  was  with  fear  and  trembling  that  I 
asked  for  her  hand ;  I  was  so  ashamed  of  my  poverty ! 
While  now,  sir,  it  is  with  delighted  assurance  that  I 
beg  you  to  give  her  to  me. 

MERCADET,  speaking  to  himself. — Well,  I  declare,  such 
love  is  real,  sincere,  and  noble !  I  had  no  idea  a  feel- 
ing like  this  existed  in  this  world!  (Speaking  to 
Minaret.)  You  must  pardon  me,  young  man,  for  the 
opinion  I  held  of  you !  And,  above  all,  you  must  par- 
don me  the  sorrow  I  have  in  store  for  you. 

MINARD. — What  sorrow,  sir? 

MERCADET. — My  friend  Minard — Julie — my  daughter 
cannot  become  your  wife — 

MINARD. — Not  become  my  wife,   sir!      After  what 


MERCADET  189 

you  know  of  my  love— after  all  you  have  told  me  of 
your  position ! 

MERCADET. — Yes,  sir,  just  on  account  of  what  I  con- 
fessed to  you !  A  few  minutes  ago,  I  laid  bare  before 
you,  Mercadet,  the  supposed  rich  capitalist;  now,  I 
am  going  to  reveal  to  you  Mercadet,  the  hard,  skep- 
tical, business  man.  I  allowed  you  to  look  into  my 
books ;  you  may  gaze,  now,  into  my  very  heart. 

MINARD. — Say  what  you  have  to  say,  sir,  but  bear 
in  mind  how  dearly  I  love  Mademoiselle  Julie — 
Remember,  that  only  my  devotion  can  equal  my  love. 

MERCADET. — I'll  admit  all  this —  Yes,  by  dint  of 
tireless  labor  you'll  manage  to  earn  enough  to  keep 
Julie  out  of  actual  want.  But,  please,  who  is  to  take 
care  of  us,  her  mother  and  me? 

MINARD. — Oh,  trust  me,  sir,  I — 

MERCADET. — I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say — 
You  will  work  for  four  as  well  as  for  two!  But,  my 
dear  man,  how  long  will  you  be  able  to  stand  the 
strain?  And  besides,  we  should  be  robbing  your  chil- 
dren of  their  future  bread — 

MINARD. — What  are  you  saying,  sir! 

MERCADET. — >And  I,  in  spite  of  your  generous 
efforts,  I  should  succumb,  crushed  under  the  weight 
of  a  shameful  bankruptcy.  Only  a  brilliant  marriage 
contracted  by  my  daughter  can  gain  me  respite  from 
my  creditors.  And  that  respite  may  give  me  back  my 
credit.  With  the  assistance  of  a  wealthy  son-in-law, 
my  fortune,  my  position  may  be  reconquered!  My 
daughter's  marriage — why,  that's  my  only  salvation, 
the  sole  hope  that  may  yet  rescue  my  fortune  and  my 
honor!  You  love  my  daughter,  my  friend —  Let  me 
appeal  to  that  very  love.  Do  not  drag  her  into  pov- 


190  MERCADET 

erty.  Do  not  bring  upon  her  the  remorse  of  having 
caused  her  father's  ruin  and  shame ! 

MIN  ARD,  his  voice  full  of  grief.  — What  can  I  do  ?  What 
can  I  do  for  you? 

MERCADET,  pressing  his  hand. — I  want  you  to  find  in 
the  noble  feeling  with  which  she  has  inspired  you  a 
sum  of  courage  greater  than  what  I  possess  myself. 

MINARD. — I  shall  have  all  the  courage  needed. 

MERCADET. — Then  listen  to  me —  Should  I  refuse 
you  Julie's  hand,  she,  in  turn,  would  surely  refuse  the 
husband  I  wish  her  to  marry.  So,  I  shall  have  to — 
grant  you  her  hand — and  you  will  be  compelled  to 
refuse — 

MINARD. — O  sir!     She  will  never  believe  it  of  me — 

MERCADET. — She  shall  believe  you  if  you  declare  that 
poverty  frightens  you,  on  her  account. 

MINARD. — She  will  accuse  me  of  having  been 
attracted  solely  by  her  money. 

MERCADET. — But,  in  truth,  she  will  owe  you  her 
happiness. 

MINARD,  despairingly. — She  will  despise  me,  sir! 

MERCADET. — Yes,  she  will.  But  if  I  have  read  your 
heart  aright,  you  love  her  deeply  enough  to  sacrifice 
yourself,  unreservedly,  for  her  sake.  Here  she  comes, 
sir,  and  her  mother  is  with  her —  It  is  in  both  their 
names  that  I  entreat  you;  may  I  count  upon  you? 

MINARD,  with  a  great  effort. — You — may. 

MERCADET. — Thank  you.     Thank  you. 


MERCADET  191 

SCENE    III 

THE  PRECEDING.     JULIE.      MADAME  MERCADET. 

JULIE.— Come,  mother,  I  feel  sure  that  by  this  time 
Adolphe  has  overcome  all  obstacles. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — My  dear  husband,  M.  Minard  has 
asked  you  Julie's  hand —  What  answer  did  you  give 
him? 

MERCADET,  crosses  over  to  his  desTc  and  remains  stand- 
ing.— Monsieur  Minard  will  reply  for  himself. 

MINARD,  aside. — How  can  I  tell  her?  I  feel  my  heart 
breaking ! 

JULIE. — Well,  Adolphe? 

MINARD.  — Mademoiselle — 

JULIE. — "Mademoiselle!"  Am  I  not  any  longer 
"Julie"  to  you?  Oh,  please  answer  at  once — Has 
everything  been  settled  with  my  father? 

MINARD. — Your  father  gave  me  his  full  confidence; 
he  made  a  clean  breast  of  his  present  position — 

JULIE. — Well!  what  of  that?  please  hasten — 

MERCADET. — I  told  our  friend  here  that  we  were 
financially  ruined — 

JULIE. — And  this  confession  changed  nothing  in  your 
intentions — in  your  love —  Is  it  not  so,  Adolphe? 

MINARD,  passionately. — In  my  love!  (Mercadet  with- 
out the  others  noticing  him,  presses  Minard' s  hand.}  I 
should  deceive  you,  Mademoiselle,  (speaking  with 
great  effort,}  if  I  said  that  these  revelations  did  not 
affect  my  intentions. 

JULIE. — But  this  is  impossible!  It  cannot  be  my 
Adolphe  who  is  speaking  thus ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Julie  ! 


192  MERCADET 

MINARD,  warming  up  to  Ms  task. — There  are  men  to 
whom  necessity  gives  increased  energy,  men  whose 
delight  it  would  be  to  devote  to  a  beloved  one  the 
indefatigable  labor  of  every  hour  of  the  day,  fully 
rewarded  by  a  tender  and  joyful  smile —  (Resuming 
his  part.)  But  I,  Mademoiselle,  I  do  not  belong  to 
that  chosen  few ;  the  thought  of  poverty  unmans  me — 
I  could  not  stand  the  sight  of  your  misery — 

JULIE,  bursting  into  tears  and  throwing  herself  into  her 
mothers  arms. — O  Mamma!  O  Mamma! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — My  darling  girl,  my  poor  Julie! 

MINARD,  in  a  low  voice  to  Mercadet. — Have  I  done 
enough,  sir? 

JULIE,  not  looking  at  Minard. — I  should  have  had 
courage  for  two ;  never  would  you  have  seen  me  other 
than  smiling — I  should  have  worked  without  a  regret — 
and  happiness  would  have  always  reigned  in  our  little 
home —  And  you  refused  that!  O  Adolphe, 
Adolphe !  You  have  refused  all  that ! 

MINARD,  in  a  low  voice  to  Mercadet. — O  sir!  Let  me 
go— 

MERCADET,  leading  the  way  to  the  right. — Come. 

MINARD. — Good-by,  Julie —  A  love  that  would  con- 
demn you  to  poverty  would  be  that  of  a  madman — I 
choose  the  love  that  sacrifices  itself  for  the  loved  one's 
happiness — 

JULIE. — I  do  not  believe  you  any  longer —  (To  her 
mother  in  a  low  voice.)  My  only  bliss  would  have  been 
to  be  his — 

JUSTIN,  calling  out  from  the  back  of  the  stage. — Mon- 
sieur de  la  Brive!  Monsieur  de  Mericourt! 

MERCADET,  coming  to  the  front. — Take  your  daughter 
to  your  own  room,  Madame.  You,  sir,  kindly  follow 


MERCADET  193 

me—  (To  Justin.)  Have  these  gentlemen  wait  here 
a  few  minutes.  (To  Minard.)  Come — I  am  pleased 
with  you. 

(Madame  Mercadet  leaves  by  the  left  side  door  with 
Julie.  Mercadet  and  Minard  withdraw  by  the  door  to  the 
right,  while  Justin,  going  up  the  stage  introduces  the  visit- 
ors by  the  center  back  entrance.) 


SCENE    IV 

DE  LA  BRIVE.     MERICOURT. 

JUSTIN. — Monsieur  Mercadet  requests  the  gentlemen 
to  kindly  wait  for  him  here.  (Exit  Justin.) 

MERICOURT. — At  last,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  inside 
the  breastworks  and  about  to  become  the  official  suitor 
of  Mademoiselle  Mercadet !  You  must  steer  straight 
now,  for  the  father  is  a  shrewd  one. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — That's  just  what  I  am  afraid  of;  he'll 
be  a  hard  nut  to  crack. 

MERICOURT. — I  do  not  think  so.  Mercadet  is  a 
speculator  by  trade;  rich  to-day,  he  may  be  poor 
to-morrow.  From  what  his  wife  told  me  of  his  inten- 
tions, I  imagine  that  he  is  quite  anxious  to  have  a 
portion  of  his  fortune  in  his  daughter's  name  and  to 
secure  a  son-in-law  capable  of  assisting  him  in  his 
financial  ventures. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  should  like  nothing  better !  But 
what  if  he  asked  for  too  much  and  too  minute  infor- 
mation concerning  me? 

MERICOURT. — Oh,  I  gave  M.  Mercadet  excellent 
references  about  you. 


194  MERCADET 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — This  is  a  piece  of  such  extraordinary 
luck — 

MERICOURT. — Will  it  deprive  you  of  your  vaunted 
assurance?  I  understand  full  well  how  perilous  your 
situation  has  grown  lately.  One  must  reach  to  the 
very  edge  of  absolute  despair  to  think  of  marrying. 
Marriage  nowadays  is  the  form  of  suicide  of  the  bon- 
vivant,  while  it  once  used  to  be  his  culminating  suc- 
cess. (In  a  low  voice.)  Tell  me  the  truth,  can  you 
hold  on  much  longer. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — My  dear  fellow,  if  I  did  not  use  two 
names,  one  for  the  constables  and  one  for  the  society 
world,  I  would  long  ago  have  been  banished  from  the 
boulevard.  Woman  and  I,  as  you  well  know,  have 
cleaned  each  other's  pockets  pretty  thoroughly,  and 
there  are  no  more  wealthy  and  amorous  British 
dowagers  in  quest  of  men  of  my  ilk. 

MERICOURT. — What  about  card  playing? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Oh,  card  playing  is  an  inexhaustible 
resource  only  for  a  particular  breed  of  scamps.  I  am 
not  such  an  arrant  fool  as  to  wager  my  honor  for  the 
sake  of  a  few  paltry  gains  that  would  stop  perforce  after 
a  while.  The  press,  my  dear  fellow,  has  wrecked  all 
these  wicked  careers  formerly  so  profitable.  Well,  to 
cut  it  short,  when  I  sign  100,000  francs  of  notes,  the 
usurers  refuse  to  give  me  more  than  10,000  francs  for 
the  lot.  Pierquin  sends  me  to  a  kind  of  sub-Pierquin 
— little  father  Violette,  they  call  him,  and  Violette 
tells  my  broker  that  it  would  be  spoiling  valuable 
stamped  paper —  My  tailor  declines  to  understand 
the  brilliant  future  yet  in  store  for  me.  My  horse 
boards  on  credit.  As  for  that  nicely  dressed  little 
imp,  my  groom,  I  have  not  the  faintest  idea  where  he 


MERCADET  195 

gets  his  sustenance;  I  prefer  not  to  unravel  this  mys- 
tery. As  our  civilization  is  not  far  advanced  enough 
to  declare  all  debts  off  every  ten  years,  as  the  Jewish 
law  prescribed,  I'll  have  to  pay  up  with  my  own  per- 
son—  Pretty  bad,  isn't  it?  For  a  young  man, 
accepted  in  the  most  select  ranks  of  swelldom,  rather 
good  looking  and  only  twenty-seven  years  old,  to  be 
compelled  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  mere  lucky 
speculator ! 

MERICOURT. — Oh,  what  does  that  matter? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — It's  in  pretty  bad  taste,  I  know;  but 
then  I  am  growing  tired  of  this  loafing  existence.  I 
have  discovered  lately  that  the  shortest  way  to  wealth 
is  to  do  some  work  to  acquire  it!  The  trouble,  with 
us  of  the  fast  set,  is  that  we  believe  ourselves  fit  for 
every  situation,  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  are  good 
for  nothing.  A  man,  like  me,  capable  of  inspiring 
passions,  can  be  neither  a  clerk  nor  a  soldier!  Society 
has  no  berth  for  us.  Well  then,  I'll  launch  into  spec- 
ulation, in  the  wake  of  father-in-law  Mercadet;  he  is 
a  choice  specimen  of  the  genus  "promoter."  By  the 
way,  you  are  positive  that  he  can  give  a  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  franc  dowry  to  his  daughter? 

MERICOURT. — Judging  from  Madame  Mercadet's 
gowns—  Why,  one  meets  her  at  all  the  first  nights ! 
She  has  her  box  at  the  opera,  and  her  style  is  elegance 
itself. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Oh,  for  that  matter,  I  have  style 
enough  myself  and  yet — 

MERICOURT. — But  look  at  these  rooms — everything 
here  bears  the  mark  of  wealth—  Oh,  they  are  all 
right — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Yes,  it  all  looks  like  bourgeois  splen- 


196  MERCADET 

dor;  all  of  a  solid,  standard  pattern.  A  good 
omen. 

MERICOURT. — Then  the  mother  is  a  woman  of  high 
principles,  of  unimpeachable  reputation.  By  the 
way,  have  you  enough  funds  on  hands  to  keep  things 
running  until  the  climax? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Oh,  I  am  all  right,  in  that  respect. 
I  won  enough  at  the  club,  yesterday,  to  allow  me  to  do 
things  in  handsome  style;  on  the  marriage  presents 
I'll  pay  part  down  and  owe  the  rest. 

MERICOURT. — Without  including  my  own  loans,  may 
I  ask  what  is  the  amount  of  your  debts? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — A  mere  trifle,  my  dear  fellow!  A 
paltry  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  which  my  prospec- 
tive father-in-law  will  have  no  trouble  shaving  down 
to  fifty  thousand.  That  will  leave  me  one  hundred 
thousand  clear,  just  enough  for  a  starter  in  specula- 
tion. I  always  said  that  I'd  never  begin  making  a  for- 
tune until  I  had  not  a  blessed  cent  left. 

MERICOURT. — Mercadet  is  no  fool;  he  will  question 
you  pretty  closely  about  your  finances ;  have  you  your 
answers  ready? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Do  I  not  still  own  my  estate  of  La 
Brive?  Three  thousand  acres  of  desert  land,  worth 
about  thirty  thousand  and  mortgaged  for  forty-five. 
It  might  be  used  as  the  basis  for  a  stock  company  with 
a  capital  of,  say,  three  hundred  thousand,  for  the  rais- 
ing, or  the  extracting,  of  something  or  other.  You 
have  no  idea  how  useful  this  estate  has  been  to  me. 

MERICOURT. — I  see —  Name,  estate,  horse  even,  you 
use  everything  for  a  double  purpose. 

DE  LA  BRIVE, Not  SO  loud  ! 

MERICOURT. — So  you  have  your  mind  made  up? 


MERCADET  197 

DE  LA  DRIVE. — Indeed  I  have —     All  the  more  since 
I  have  decided  to  go  into  politics. 

MERICOURT. — You  are  clever  enough  to  make  a  suc- 
cess of  it ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — First  of  all  I  am  going  to  be  a  news- 
paper man. 

MERICOURT. — A  newspaper  man!      Why,  you  never 
wrote  a  line ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Oh,  there  are  newspaper  men  who 
write,  and  others  who  don't.  The  first  ones,  the 
editors,  drag  the  wagon.  The  others,  the  owners,  are 
the  livery  stable  keepers;  they  give  as  little  oats  as 
they  can,  and  keep  all  the  income.  I'll  be  an  owner. 
All  one  has  to  do  is  to  look  wise  and  to  exclaim,  for 
instance,  "the  Eastern  question,  sir,  is  a  weighty 
matter,  sir,  and  it  might  lead  us  into  all  kinds  of 
complications ;  nobody  seems  to  realize  it. ' '  Or,  one 
closes  up  a  debate  by  saying:  "England,  sir,  will 
ever  fool  us!"  Again,  to  a  man  who  has  been  talk- 
ing a  long  while  without  being  listened  to  in  the 
least,  you  answer :  ' '  We  are  walking  to  an  abyss,  sir ; 
we  are  far  from  having  accomplished  all  the  evolutions 
of  the  revolutionary  cycle!"  To  an  anxious  manufac- 
turer: "Yes,  sir,  I  agree  with  you,  sir,  something 
ought  to  be  done  in  this  matter!"  You  speak  little, 
you  are  seen  everywhere,  you  render  all  kinds  of  serv- 
ices, rather  of  the  mysterious  sort,  to  people  in 
power,  often  doing  what  they  cannot  do  themselves. 
You  are  supposed  to  inspire  certain  much-noticed 
articles,  and  you  may  even  have  to  publish  a  yellow- 
backed  volume  on  some  Utopian  theory  or  other,  a 
book  so  strongly  conceived  and  written  that  nobody 
ever  opens,  it  while  everybody  claims  to  have  read  it. 


198  MERCADET 

Thus,  you  become  a  man  of  importance  and  you  end 
by  being  "somebody,"  while  you  were,  until  then, 
but  a  nonentity. 

MERICOURT. — Alas,  your  program  is  but  too  often  fol- 
lowed in  our  times! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Followed !  Why,  there  are  proofs  of 
it  every  day.  When  called  upon  to  take  a  share  in  the 
administration,  you  are  not  asked  what  good  you  can 
do,  but  what  power  for  harm  you  have.  Your  talents 
don't  count  half  so  much  as  the  fear  you  inspire. 
Politicians  are  a  timid  crowd.  So,  it  is  a  settled  mat- 
ter with  me  that  the  day  after  I  am  married  I  will 
assume  a  profound  mien — and  a  full  set  of  principles! 
There  are  plenty  to  choose  from,  for,  in  France,  polit- 
ical principles  are  as  varied  as  a  restaurant  bill  of 
fare.  I  may  decide  to  stand  up  as  a — Socialist !  I  like 
the  word!  At  all  epochs,  my  dear  fellow,  there  have 
been  certain  adjectives  which  have  proved  the  pass- 
word for  the  ambitiously-inclined.  Before  1789,  it  was 
the  fashion  to  call  one's  self  an  "Economist" ;  in  1815, 
the  word  a  la  mode  was  "Liberal";  and  so  on  and  so 
on.  The  party  of  to-morrow  will  be  called  "Social- 
ist," doubtless  because  it  is  so  unsociable.  You  must 
take  the  opposite  of  each  word's  meaning  to  under- 
stand it  fully. 

MERICOURT. — But,  my  dear  fellow,  all  the  eloquence 
you  possess  is  that  of  the  masked-ball  that  passes  for 
wit  among  those  not  blessed  with  it !  What  will  you 
do  when  some  real  knowledge  will  have  to  be  forth- 
coming? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — My  friend,  in  all  other  branches  of 
human  endeavor,  in  sciences,  arts,  literature,  one 
needs  a  capital  to  draw  from,  a  certain  amount  of 


MERCADET  199 

knowledge — as  you  say — to  give  evidence  of  one's 
capacities;  but,  in  politics,  you  know  everything  and 
you  are  everything —by  the  magic  of  one  single 
phrase — 

MERICOURT. — And  what  is  this  open  "sesame"? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — "The  principles  of  my  friends,"  "the 
party  to  which  I  belong" — 

MERICOURT. — Silence!     The  father-in-law! 


SCENE   V 

THE   PRECEDING.     MERCADET. 

MERCADET,  entering  from  the  right. — Good  day,  my 
dear  Men  court.  (To  de  La  Brive.}  The  ladies  have 
made  you  wait,  sir.  Ah,  those  gowns !  As  for  myself, 
I  was  just  dismissing — why  should  I  not  tell  you? — I 
was  dismissing  another  suitor  for  my  daughter's  hand. 
Poor  young  man,  I  may  have  been  a  little  too  harsh 
with  him,  and  I  feel  truly  sorry.  He  was  so  fond  of 
my  Julie ;  but  then,  I  had  no  choice ;  he  had  only  a 
paltry  ten  thousand  a  year! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — One  can't  go  very  far  with  that, 

MERCADET. — One  only  vegetates — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — And  you  are  not  the  man  to  give  your 
clever  and  wealthy  daughter  to  the  first  comer. 

MERICOURT. — Indeed  you  are  not! 

MERCADET. — Gentlemen,  before  the  ladies  come  in, 
let  us  talk  business. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  to  Mericourt.—ttere  is  the  rub.  (They 
nil  sit  down.} 

MERCADET. — And  so  you  really  love  my  daughter? 


200  MERCADET 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  love  her  passionately,  sir. 

MERCADET. — Passionately ! 

MERICOURT,  aside  to  his  friend. — Take  care;  you 
overdo  it — 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  answering  him  aside.-1—  You  just  wait. 
(Aloud.}  Monsieur  Mercadet,  I  am  an  ambitious  man 
— and  I  have  discovered  that  Mademoiselle  Julie  is  a 
highly  distinguished,  extremely  witty  and  charmingly 
mannered  young  lady ;  she  will  be  perfectly  at  home 
in  any  position  to  which  fortune  may  lead  me,  and 
this  is  an  essential  element  of  success  for  a  man  who 
wants  to  go  into  politics. 

MERCADET. — Ah,  I  understand  you  now.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  find  a  wife,  but  it  is  very  seldom  that  a 
man  who  aims  to  become  minister  or  ambassador  is 
lucky  enough  to  meet  a  lady  who  can  be  the  (let  me  use 
the  word,  since  we  are  still  between  men) ,  the  female  of 
his  species. — You  are  a  clever  man,  Monsieur  de  La 
Brive.  May  I  know  your  political  opinion? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — For  the  present,  I  am  a  socialist,  sir. 

MERCADET. — That's  the  new  hobby,  I  understand. 
But  let  us  talk  now  about  the  settlements. 

MERICOURT. — Is  it  not  the  lawyers'  work? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — No,  Monsieur  Mercadet  is  right;  we 
should  attend  to  these  matters  ourselves. 

MERCADET. — Monsieur  de  La  Brive  is  correct. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  sir,  my 
whole  fortune  consists  in  the  estate  of  La  Brive ;  it  has 
been  in  my  family  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
and  I  earnestly  hope  that  it  will  stay  there  forever. 

MERCADET. — In  our  days  a  capital  in  cash  is  perhaps 
preferable  to  real  estate.  Capital  is  always  an  avail- 
able resource;  revolutions  may  burst  over  us — and 


MERCADET  201 

how  many  such  have  we  already  seen — your  capital 
follows  you  everywhere.  Land,  on  the  contrary, 
land  pays  for  all.  It  has  to  stay  there,  like  a  dolt,  and 
meet  all  the  taxes,  while  capital  takes  to  its  heels. 
Still,  this  will  not  be  a  difficulty.  What  is  the  extent 
of  your  estate,  sir? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — It  covers  3,000  acres,  without  a  break. 

MERCADET. — Without  a  break ! 

MERICOURT. — Didn't  I  tell  you? 

MERCADET. — I  never  doubted — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Besides,  there  is  a  chateau — 

MERCADET. — Fine ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — And  a  large  extent  of  salt  marshes 
that  might  prove  an  important  source  of  profit  if  the 
government  would  grant  the  permission  to  work  them. 

MERCADET. — Ah,  sir,  why  did  we  not  become 
acquainted  sooner !  You  say  that  this  estate  is  close 
to  the  sea? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Not  a  mile  away  from  it. 

MERCADET. — And  where  located? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Near  Bordeaux. 

MERCADET. — It  is  planted  in  vines  ? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — No,  sir,  happily  not.  Wine  is  often 
very  hard  to  sell  and  vineyard  cultivation  costs  like 
the  mischief.  My  estate  was  planted  in  pines  by  an 
ancestor,  a  man  of  genius,  who  was  far-sighted  enough 
to  sacrifice  himself  for  his  descendants'  sake. 
Besides,  of  course,  I  have  the  household  furniture  you 
have  seen. 

MERCADET. — One  minute,  sir,  a  business  man  likes 
details — 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  aside. — It's  coming — 

MERCADET. — Your  estate,  your  marshes,  I  foresee  all 


202  MERCADET 

that  could  be  got  out  of  them —  One  might  incor- 
porate a  stock  company  for  the  exploitation  of  the  salt 
marshes  of  La  Brive !  There  is  a  million  in  it ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  know  it,  sir;  I  am  waiting  foi 
someone  to  offer  it  to  me. 

MERCADET,  aside. — That's  a  pretty  clever  retort. 
(Aloud.)  But  you  must  surely  have  some  debts —  Is 
the  estate  mortgaged? 

MERICOURT. — You  could  hardly  esteem  my  friend  if 
he  were  without  a  franc  of  debt ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I'll  be  frank  with  you,  sir.  My  estate 
is  encumbered  with  a  45,ooo-franc  mortgage. 

MERCADET,  aside. — Unsophisticated  young  man,  he 
might  have —  (Rising,  aloud.)  I  approve  of  you,  sir, 
you  shall  be  my  son-in-law;  you  are  the  very  husband 
I  was  dreaming  of  for  my  daughter.  You  do  not  even 
suspect  the  amount  of  your  fortune ! ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  aside  to  Mericourt. — It's  working  almost 
too  well. 

MERICOURT,  aside  to  de  La  Brive. — He  has  scented 
some  speculation  in  his  line  that  dazzles  him. 

MERCADET,  aside. — With  some  powerful  influence, 
and  it  can  be  bought,  salt  works  may  readily  be  estab- 
lished there.  I  am  saved!  (Aloud.)  Allow  me  to 
shake  hands,  English  fashion ;  you  are  my  ideal  of  a 
son-in-law.  I  see  that  you  are  not  narrow-minded, 
like  most  country  gentlemen.  We  shall  agree. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  am  sure  you  will  not  take  it  amiss, 
sir,  if,  in  my  turn,  I  ask  you — 

MERCADET. — You  want  to  know  what  my  daughter's 
dowry  is  to  be —  Why,  sir,  if  you  did  not  ask  me  this 
question,  I  would  grow  suspicious!  Well,  sir,  my 
daughter  will  marry  with  her  full  rights  as  my 


MERCADET  203 

sole  heiress;  besides,  her  mother  will  make  her  a 
present  of  all  her  fortune,  consisting  of  a  nice  farm  in 
the  Brie  district ;  only  200  acres  but  in  a  high  grade  of 
cultivation.  As  for  me,  I  will  give  her,  as  a  dower, 
the  sum  of  200,000  francs,  the  interest  on  which  I  will 
pay  her  until  some  remunerative  investment  has  been 
selected  by  you.  For,  my  dear  young  man,  it  is 
important  not  to  risk  all  our  eggs  in  the  same  basket, 
and  we  are  going,  you  and  I,  to  enter  the  business 
field.  I  like  you  already,  you  are  my  kind — ambitious 
to  a  degree — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — That  I  am,  sir,  I  confess. 

MERCADET. — You  love  luxury,  you  like  to  spend 
money  freely —  You  want  to  shine  in  Paris — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I'd  like  nothing  better,  sir. 

MERCADET. — You  want  to  play  a  part  on  this  stage — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Indeed  I  do. 

MERCADET. — You  see,  since  I  am  getting  to  be  an  old 
man,  I  wish  to  instil  my  ambition  in  some  younger 
head.  I  will  relinquish  to  you  all  the  display  part  of 
the  business. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Monsieur  Mercadet,  if  I  had  had  my 
pick  among  all  the  possible  Parisian  fathers-in-law,  I 
would  have  chosen  you.  You  are  the  man  to  my  lik- 
ing; allow  me  to  shake  your  hand,  English  style. 
(They  shake  hands  again.) 

MERCADET,  aside. — It  is  working  almost  too  well. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  aside. — He  is  pitching  into  my  marshes 
head  foremost. 

MERCADET,  aside  as  he  is  ivalking  to  the  door  to  the  left. 
— He  accepts  the  revenue  instead  of  the  capital! 

MERICOURT,  to  La  Brive.—A.rt  you  satisfied? 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  answering  Mm  in  a  low  voice. — Yes,  but 


204  MERCADET 

I  don't  see  where  the  money  for  my  debts  is  to  come 
from. 

MERICOURT,  answering  him. — Just  wait.  (Aloud.} 
Monsieur  Mercadet,  my  friend  is  too  correct  to  hide 
anything  from  you ;  he  has  a  few  debts — 

MERCADET. — Please,  have  no  hesitation  to  speak  out — 
I  understand  such  things  quite  well —  Do  they 
amount  to  50,000  francs? 

MERICOURT. — Just  about — 

MERCADET. — A  mere  trifle. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  laughing. — As  you  say,  a  mere  trifle. 

MERCADET. — It  will  be  the  pretext  for  a  charming 
little  vaudeville  scene  between  you  and  your  young 
wife.  Yes,  you  must  let  her  have  the  pleasure  of 
offering —  In  a  word,  we  will  gladly  pay  the 
amount —  (Aside.)  In  stock  of  the  La  Brive  Salt 
Marsh  Co.  (Aloud.)  It  is  insignificant.  (Aside.) 
We  shall  estimate  the  marshes  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  higher.  (Aloud.)  So  everything  is  settled,  son- 
in-law? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Everything,  father-in-law. 

MERCADET,  aside. — I  am  saved. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  aside. — I  am  saved. 


SCENE   VI 

THE  PRECEDING.      MADAME  MERCADET.     JULIE.     Both 
enter  through  the  lack  door. 

MERCADET. — Here  are  my  wife  and  daughter. 

MERICOURT. — Madame,  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you 
Monsieur  de  La  Brive,  one  of  my  friends  who  has 
manifested  an  admiration  for  your  daughter — 


MERCADET  205 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — A  passionate  admiration. 

MERCADET. — Our  daughter  will  be  an  ideal  wife  for  a 
man  in  politics. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  addressing  Mericourt  but  staring  at  Julie 
through  his  single  eye-glass. — You  are  absolutely  right. 
(To  Madame  Mercadet.)  Like  mother,  like  daughter. 
Madame,  allow  me  to  place  my  hopes  under  your  pro- 
tection. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Introduced  by  Monsieur  Meri- 
court, Monsieur  de  La  Brive  is  sure  of  a  welcome. 

JULIE,  low  to  her  father. — What  a  conceited  man! 

MERCADET,  answering  her. — He  is  powerfully  wealthy 
and  will  soon  make  us  all  millionaires.  Besides,  he's 
a  brilliantly  witty  fellow.  Now,  be  nice  to  him;  you 
must. 

Julie,  answering  him. — What  can  I  say  to  a  dandy 
whom  I  see  for  the  first  time  and  who  is  to  be  my  hus- 
band whether  I  wish  it  or. not? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  trust  that  Mademoiselle  Mercadet 
will  permit  me  to  hope  that  she  is  not  opposed  to — 

JULIE. — My  duty,  sir,  is  to  obey  my  father. 

DE  LA  BRIVE.  — Young  ladies  are  not  always  aware  of 
the  feelings  they  inspire.  For  the  last  two  months  it 
has  been  my  ambition  to  be  allowed  to  pay  my  homage 
to  you. 

JULIE. — No  one  could  be  more  flattered  than  I  to 
have  attracted  so  much  attention. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  to  Mericourt. — He  is  charming. 
(Aloud.)  We  hope  that  Monsieur  de  La  Brive  and  his 
friend  will  do  us  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  us 
to-night,  informally. 

MERCADET. — Quite  informally.  (To  de  La  Brive.) 
We  crave  your  indulgence. 


2o6  MERCADET 

JUSTIN,  entering  from  the  back,  low  to  Mcrcadet. — 
Monsieur  Pierquin  wishes  to  speak  to  you,  sir. 

MERCADET. — Pierquin? 

JUSTIN. — Yes,  sir,  he  says  it  is  most  important  and 
pressing  business. 

MERCADET. — What  can  he  want  of  me?  (To  Justin.) 
Bring  him  in.  (To  Madame  Mercadet.)  My  dear, 
these  gentlemen  are  tired  of  business ;  will  you  lead 
the  way  to  the  drawing-room — Monsieur  de  La  Brive, 
offer  your  arm  to  my  daughter.  (He  opens  the  door  to 
to  the  right.} 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  boivtng  and  offering  his  arm  to  Julie. — 
Mademoiselle — 

JULIE,  aside. — He  is  handsome  enough  and  wealthy. 
Why  does  he  ask  my  hand? 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Monsieur  Mericourt,  will  you 
see  the  painting  which  is  to  be  raffled  for  the  benefit 
of  our  orphan  asylum? 

MERICOURT. — I'll  be  delighted  to,  Madame. 

MERCADET. — Then  walk  in  here;  I'll  be  with  you.  in  a 
moment. 

(Exeunt  all  except  Mercadet. ) 


SCENE   VII 

MERCADET.     A  little  later  PIERQUIN. 

MERCADET,  alone. — This  time  I  am  within  sight  of  a 
fortune,  and  it  includes  Julie's  happiness  and  com- 
plete bliss  for  everyone.  Such  a  son-in-law  is  simply 
a  gold  mine — with  his  three  thousand  acres,  his 


MERCADET  207 

chateau,  his  salt-marshes.  (He  sits  down  in  front  of 
his  desk.) 

PIERQUIN,  entering. — Good  afternoon,  Mercadet.  I 
come — 

MERCADET. — At  the  wrong  time.  What  do  you  wish 
of  me? 

PIERQUIN. — I'll  be  brief.  The  claim,  judgment,  etc., 
against  one  Michonnin,  which  I  assigned  to  you  this 
morning — I  told  you  then  that  they  were  valueless — 

MERCADET. YOU  did. 

PIERQUIN. — I'll  offer  you  now  three  thousand  francs 
for  the  lot. 

MERCADET. — It's  either  too  much  or  too  little.  If 
you  offer  that  amount  for  it,  the  claim  must  be  worth 
a  great  deal  more —  But  I  am  expected  in  the  other 
room —  So,  good-by. 

PIERQUIN.— I  offer  four  thousand  francs. 

MERCADET. No,   sir. 

PIERQUIN. — Five — six  thousand — 

MERCADET. — Why  don't  you  show  your  hand,  Pier- 
quin?  Tell  me  the  reason  you  are  so  anxious  to  have 
this  claim  re-assigned  to  you? 

PIERQUIN. — That  Michonnin  insulted  me — I  want  to 
see  him  in  the  debtors'  jail. 

MERCADET,  rising  from  his  chair. — Six  thousand 
francs'  worth  of  revenge!  You  are  not  the  man  to 
indulge  in  such  luxury. 

PIERQUIN. — But  I  assure  you — 

MERCADET. — Why,  my  dear  man,  a  first  class  libel  is 
not  tariffed  in  the  Code  more  than  five  or  six  hundred 
francs,  and  a  slap  in  the  face  is  quoted  a  paltry  fifty 
francs. 

PIERQUIN. — But  I  swear — 


208  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — Now  I  have  it !  Michonnin  has  inherited 
a  fortune —  The  forty-seven  thousand  francs  are 
worth  just  forty-seven  thousand  francs —  You  had 
better  make  a  clean  breast  of  it —  And  we'll  divide, 
share  and  share  alike. 

PIERQUIN. — Well  —  then  —  Michonnin  is  going  to 
marry — 

MERCADET. — And  whom  is  he  going  to  marry? 

PIERQUIN. — The  daughter  of  some  idiot  of  a  nabob, 
who  gives  his  daughter  an  enormous  dowry. 

MERCADET. — Where  does  Michonnin  live? 

PIERQUIN. — I  suppose  you  want  to  have  the  papers 
served  upon  him  at  once?  But 'the  fact  is,  he  has  no 
official  residence  in  Paris;  his  flat  and  furniture  are 
under  the  name  of  a  friend.  His  legal  residence  is 
Ermont,  a  small  village,  near  Bordeaux. 

MERCADET. — Hold  on —  There  is  in  the  house  a  man 
who  comes  from  that  part  of  the  country —  In  a 
moment  I'll  have  all  the  necessary  information,  and 
we  shall  be  able  to  take  the  legal  steps  needed. 

PIERQUIN. — Send  me  the  documents  then  and  I'll 
take  charge  of  the  whole  matter  for  you. 

MERCADET. — I  consent  that  the  claim  be  placed 
in  your  hands  for  collection  upon  your  signing  an 
agreement  to  divide  the  proceeds  with  me.  I  must 
give  all  my  time  to  my  daughter's  marriage. 

PIERQUIX. — No  hitch  in  that  direction? 

MERCADET. — None  whatever.  My  future  son-in-law 
belongs  to  the  nobility;  he  is  wealthy,  although  a 
nobleman,  and  clever,  although  wealthy  and  a  noble- 
man. 

PIERQUIN. — You  have  my  congratulations — 

MERCADET. — Just    one    word     more —       You    said, 


MERCADET*  $09 

Michonnin,   from   the  village  of   Ermont,   near  Bor- 
deaux? 

PIERQUIN.— You  got  it  right.  He  has  there  an  old 
aunt  who  vegetates  on  a  six  hundred  franc  annual 
pension.  The  old  crone's  name  is  plain  Bourdillac, 
but  he  has  dubbed  her  Marquise  de  Bourdillac,  and  is 
never  tired  speaking  about  the  delicate  state  of  her 
health  and  her  forty  thousand  francs  a  year  fortune. 

MERCADET.— That's  all  I  need.     Good-by. 

PIERQUIN.— Good-by.     (He  leaves  t>y  the  lack  door.) 

MERCADET,  striking  a  bell  on  his  desk. — Justin! 

JUSTIN. — Did  you  ring,  sir? 

MERCADET.— Ask  Monsieur  de  La  Brive  to  kindly 
step  into  this  room  for  a  few  minutes.  (Exit  Justin 
by  the  door  to  the  right.)  That's  twenty-three  thousand 
francs  found.  It  will  help  me  do  things  up  in  fine  style 
for  this  marriage. 


SCENE    VIII 

MERCADET.     DE  LA  BRIVE.    JUSTIN. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  entering  from  the  right  with  Justin  and 
giving  him  a  letter  with  a  gold  coin. — Take  this  letter 
and  have  it  sent  at  once —  And,  here  is  something  for 
you. 

JUSTIN,  aside. — A  napoleon!  Mademoiselle  will  be 
a  happy  wife —  (He  leaves  by  the  back  door.) 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — You  want  to  speak  to  me,  my  dear 
father-in-law? 

MERCADET. — Yes,  I  have —  You  see  I  am  acting 
quite  informally  already —  Please  take  a  seat. 


210  MERCADET 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  sitting  down  on  the  sofa.  — I  thank  you 
for  treating  me  in  this  way — 

MERCADET. — I  want  you  to  give  me  some  informa- 
tion about  a  debtor  of  mine  who,  like  you,  lives  near 
Bordeaux. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  know  everybody  around  there. 

MERCADET. — If  need  be,  you  certainly  have  some 
relatives  there  who  could  look  the  man  up? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Relatives — I  have  only  one — an  old 
aunt — 

MERCADET,  raising  his  head. — An — old  aunt? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Her  health  is — 

MERCADET,  more  excited. — Delicate — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — And  her  fortune  is  estimated  at  forty 
thousand  a  year. 

MERCADET,  crushed. — My  Lord !     It  is  the  very  figure ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — You  see,  it  is  worth  while  humoring 
the  dear  old  Marquise  de — 

MERCADET,  walking  toward  him  in  a  towering  rage. — 
Bourdillac,  sir!! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Why!     You  know  her  name? 

MERCADET. — And  yqurs,  too! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Well,  well! 

MERCADET. — You  are  head  over  ears  in  debt;  your 
furniture  is  under  another's  name ;  your  aunt  is  worth 
just  six  hundred  francs  a  year;  Pierquin,  one  of  the 
smallest  of  your  creditors  has  forty-seven  thousand 
francs  of  your  protested  notes.  You  are  Michonnin 
and  I  am  the  idiotic  nabob — 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  stretched  on  the  sofa. — I  declare,  you  are 
as  well  informed  as  I  am. 

MERCADET. — Fate  is  playing  havoc  with  me  again! 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  aside  while  getting  up. — All  is  over  with 


MERCADET  211 

the  marriage.  I  was  a  socialist,  I  am  now  a  com- 
munist ! 

MERCADET. — As  badly  fooled  as  on  'Change. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Let  us  be  worthy  of  our  reputation. 

MERCADET. — Monsieur  Michonnin,  your  conduct  is 
worse  than  culpable. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — What  have  I  done?  Didn't  I  tell  you 
I  had  debts? 

MERCADET. — O  yes !  one  may  have  debts —  But 
where  is  your  estate? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — In  the  Landes  district. 

MERCADET. — What  does  it  consist  of? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Of  sand  plains  planted  with  pines. 

MERCADET. — Good  for  making  toothpicks. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — You  are  about  right. 

MERCADET. — And  what  is  it  worth? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Thirty  thousand  francs. 

MERCADET. — And  mortgaged  for — ? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Forty-five  thousand. 

MERCADET. — You  managed  to  do  that? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. 1  did. 

MERCADET. — I  declare  that's  pretty  clever!  And 
your  salt-marshes,  sir? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — They  confine  to  the  sea. 

MERCADET. — That  means  that  they  are  part  of  the 
ocean  itself — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Some  wickedly  disposed  people  round 
there  said  so  and  that  stopped  all  borrowing  possi- 
bilities. 

MERCADET. — The  fact  is  it  would  have  been  a  rather 
difficult  undertaking  to  bring  the  sea  into  a  stock  com- 
pany. Between  you  and  me,  sir,  your  sense  of  honesty 
seems  to  be — 


212  MERCADET 

DE  LA   BRIVE. EnOUgh,    SIT 

MERCADET. — Somewhat  clouded! 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  angrily. — Sir!  (Calming  down.}  Well, 
if  it's  only  between  you  and  me — 

MERCADET. — You  put  your  furniture  under  some  one 
else's  name;  you  sign  your  notes  with  the  first  half  of 
your  name,  Michonnin,  and  otherwise  never  use  but 
the  second  half,  de  La  Brive. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Well,  sir,  what  of  it? 

MERCADET. — What  of  it? '"Why,  don't  you  know  that 
I  could  make  it  hot  for  you? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — No,  sir,  you  would  not;  first  of  all 
because  I  am  your  guest  and  also  because  I  could  deny 
it  all.  What  proofs  have  you,  anyhow? 

MERCADET. — Proof s !  Why,  I  have  in  my  hands  your 
notes  to  the  amount  of  47,000  francs. 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  walking  to  Mm. — The  notes  I  made  out 
to  Pierquin? 

MERCADET. — The  very  same. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — And  they  came  into  your  possession 
this  morning? 

MERCADET. — This  morning. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — And,  as  a  consideration  for  the  trans- 
fer, you  gave  Pierquin  valueless  shares,  stock  that 
never  paid  and  never  will  pay  any  dividend ! 

MERCADET.  — Sir ! ! 

DE-LA  BRIVE. — And,  to  close  the  bargain,  Pierquin, 
one  of  your  smallest  creditors,  has  granted  you  three 
months'  time — 

MERCADET.— Who  told  you  all  this? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Why,  Pierquin  himself,  when  an  hour 
ago  I  wanted  to  compromise  my  little  matter  with 
him. 


MERCADET  213 

MERCADET. — By  Jove!! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — So  you  claim  to  give  your  daughter  a 
200,000  franc  dowry  and  you  are  350,000  francs  in 
debt !  Why,  sir,  between  you  and  me,  you  tried  to  get 
a  son-in-law  under  false  pretenses! 

MERCADET,  angrily. — Sir!  (Calming  down.}  Oh,  if 
it's  only  between  you  and  me — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — You  were  abusing  my  business 
ignorance. 

MERCADET. — The  business  ignorance  of  a  man  who 
succeeds  in  mortgaging  sand  plains  for  fifty  per  cent, 
more  than  they  are  worth ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Glass  is  made  out  of  sand,  sir. 

MERCADET. — It  is  quite  an  idea! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — So  yOU  S66,  sir — 

MERCADET. — Not  a  word  more,  sir;  only  keep  mum 
about  the  marriage  scheme  being  off — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Certainly;  you  have  my  word  to  that 
effect —  Ah! —  But  Pierquin  will  soon  know —  I 
just  wrote  him  a  line  to  get  him  to  leave  me  in  peace — 

MARCADET. — Is  that  the  letter  you  just  sent  out? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — The  very  one. 

MARCADET. — And  in  it  you  told  him — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — The  name  of  my  prospective  father- 
in-law. 

MARCADET,  terribly  upset. — You  wrote  that  to  Pier- 
quin! Then  the  game  is  up!  Through  him  the 
Bourse  will  hear  of  my  new  disaster —  I  am  a  lost 
man!  But,  perhaps  I  may  stop  him  yet —  I'll  ask 
him — (He  walks  to  the  desk.) 


214  MERCADET 


SCENE   IX 

THE  PRECEDING.    MADAME  MERCADET. 
JULIE.     VERDELIN. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  from  the  back  of  the  stage. — My 
dear,  here  is  Monsieur  Verdelin. 

JULIE,  to  Verdelin. — Here  is  my  father,  sir. 

MERCADET. — Ah,  it  is  you — you — Verdelin;  you  have 
come — you  have  come  to  dine  with  us? 

VERDELIN. — No,  I  have  not  come  to  dine  with  you. 

MERCADET,  aside. — He  knows  everything!  He  is 
furious ! 

VERDELIN. — Is  this  gentleman  your  future  son-in- 
law?  (He  nods  curtly.)  That's  a  fine  marriage. 

MERCADET. — My  dear  friend,  this  marriage  is  not  to 
take  place. 

JULIE. — Oh,  what  happiness!  (De  La  Brive  bows  to 
her  and  she  lowers  her  eyes.) 

MADAME  MERCADET,  restraining  her. — Daughter! 

MERCADET. — Mericourt  deceived  me. 

VERDELIN. — And  this  morning  you  acted  one  more  of 
your  comedy  parts  to  extort  three  thousand  francs  out 
of  me.  But  the  story  is  now  everybody's  property 
and  on  the  Stock  Exchange  they're  enjoying  it  hugely, 
I  tell  you. 

MERCADET. — So,  they  have  been  told — 

VERDELIN. — That  you  have  your  hands  full  of  pro- 
tested notes  signed  by  your  worthy  son-in-law,  and 
Pierquin  has  just  informed  me  that  your  exasperated 
creditors  have  called  a  meeting  at  Goulard's  for 
to-night,  when  they  will  decide  to  act  to-morrow  like 
one  man. 


MERCADET  215 

MERCADET. — To-night !  To-morrow!  Ah,  I  hear  the 
bell  of  bankruptcy  tolling  in  my  ears! 

VERDELIN. — Yes,  to-morrow — and  they  add,  "we'll 
take  him  to  the  debtors'  prison  in  a  cab." 

MADAME  MERCADET  and  JULIE. — May  the  good  Lord 
have  mercy  upon  us ! 

MERCADET. — Such  a  cab  drive  is  the  funeral  march  of 
the  speculator! 

VERDELIN. — The  Stock  Exchange  is  going  to  be 
emptied  of  all  these  dangerous  so-called  promoters! 

MERCADET. — The  fools !  Do  they  want  the  place 
turned  into  a  desert!  And  I,  am  I  to  be  driven  from 
the  Bourse  to  face  ruin,  shame,  utter  want — ?  No, 
no —  Such  a  thing  is  impossible! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Believe  me,  sir,  I  am  deeply  sorry  to 
have  been,  even  remotely,  the  cause  of — 

MERCADET,  looking  de  La  Brive  straight  in  the  eyes. — 
You!—  (Speaking  to  him,  in  a  low  voice.)  Listen,  you 
did  hasten  my  undoing — but  you  can  help  me  save 
myself  yet — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — On  what  terms? 

MERCADET,  aside. — I'll  make  the  terms  satisfactory! 
(He  walks  to  the  right,  while  de  La  Brive  steps  toward  the 
backdoor.)  Yes!  It  is  a  bold  idea!  but  an  assured 
success !  To-morrow  the  Stock  Exchange  again  will 
recognize  Mercadet  as  one  of  its  leaders — 

VERDELIN. — What  is  he  muttering  to  himself? 

MERCADET,  aloud. — To-morrow  all  my  debts  will  have 
been  paid  in  full  and  the  firm  of  Mercadet  will  be 
handling  money  by  the  millions —  I  shall  be  called 
the  Napoleon  of  finance. 

VERDELIN. — What  a  man!  , 

MERCADET. — And  I  shall  meet  no  Waterloo! 


216  MERCADET 

VERDELIN. — But  where  are  your  troops? 

MERCADET. — My  army  is  Spot  Cash —  What  can 
any  one  answer  to  a  business  man  who  says:  "My 
cashier  pays  at  sight."  And  now  let  us  dine! 

VERDELIN. — All  right;  if  things  look  that  way,  I'll 
dine  with  you,  and  be  delighted  to ! 

MERCADET,  while,  they  all  walk  toward  the  door  to  the 
left. — They  willed  it  so!  To-morrow  I  shall  reign 
over  millions  of  money — or  make  my  bed  under  the 
waves  of  the  river.  (He  follows  them  to  the  left.) 

(AcT  CURTAIN.) 


THIRD   ACT 

(Another  apartment  in  the  house  of  Mercadet.  At  the  back 
of  the  stage  a  mantel-piece.  Above  it  a  clear  pane  of  glass  in 
place  of  a  mirror.  On  either  side,  a  door;  also  doors  right  and 
left  of  the  stage.  In  the  middle  a  round  table  with  chairs  about 
it.  A  sofa  near  the  mantel-piece.  Arm-chairs  to  the  right  and 
to  thejeft.) 


SCENE  I 

JUSTIN.     THERESE.     VIRGINIE.     Later  MERCADET. 

(Justin  enters  first,  then  turns  round  and  beckons  to 
Therese  to  come  in.  She  does  so,  followed  by  Virginie  with 
a  bundle  of  bills  in  her  hands.  TJie  cook  with  defiant  mien 
throws  herself  down  upon  the  sofa.  Justin  walks  to  the 
door  at  the  left  and  puts  his  ear  close  to  the  key -hole.) 

THERESE. — I  wonder  if  they  have  the  audacity  to  try 
and  hide  the  state  of  their  affairs  from  us? 

VIRGINIE. — Father  Grumeau  just  told  me  that  Mon- 
sieur Mercadet  is  to  be  arrested  in  a  few  hours — 
He'll  have  to  settle  with  me  first —  There's  lots  of 
money  owing  me  besides  my  wages ! 

THERESE. — Oh,  you  may  depend  on  it,  we'll  lose 
every  cent.  Master  is  going  into  bankruptcy. 

JUSTIN. — I  hear  nothing — they  are  talking  too  low—' 
How  mean  they  are  to  suspect  us! 

VIRGINIE.— It's  simply  disgraceful! 

217 


2i8  MERCADET 

JUSTIN,  pressing  his  ear  to  the  key-hole. — Hold  on — I 
think  I  hear —  (The  door  opens  suddenly,  Mercadet 
appears. ) 

MERCADET,  to  Justin. — I  hope  I  did  not  disturb  you — 

JUSTIN,  abashed. — I — I  was — putting  the  furniture — 
in  order,  sir, — 

MERCADET. — You  were,  eh !  (To  Virginie  rising 
hastily  from  the  sofa.)  Please  don't  move,  Mademoiselle 
Virginie.  And  you,  Monsieur  Justin,  why  didn't  you 
come  straight  in;  we  might  have  talked  about  my 
business. 

JUSTIN. — Monsieur  amuses  me — 

MERCADET. — Do  I?     I  am  delighted  to  hear  it. 

JUSTIN. — Monsieur  takes  his  misfortune  cheerfully! 

MERCADET,  severely. — That's  enough —  Leave  the 
room,  all  of  you,  and  remember  that  henceforth  I  am 
at  home  to  everybody.  Be  neither  too  insolent  nor 
too  polite  to  any  one.  None  but  paid  creditors  shall 
you  have  to  meet  at  the  door  after  this. 

JUSTIN. — Impossible ! 

MERCADET. — You  may  go —  (The  door  at  the  back 
opens;  appear  Madame  Mercadet,  Julie  and  Minard. 
The  servants  withdraw,  bowing,  through  the  door  to  the 
right.) 


SCENE    II 

MERCADET.       MADAME    MERCADET.      JULIE.      MINARD. 

MERCADET,  aside. — I  declare —  Here  are  my  wife 
and  daughter —  In  a  situation  like  mine,  women  are 
terribly  in  the  way —  They  get  so  awfully  nervous. 
(Aloud.)  What  can  I  do  for  you,  my  dear? 


MERCADET  219 

MADAME  MERCADET. — My  dear  husband,  you  counted 
upon  Julie's  marriage  to  strengthen  your  credit  and  to 
quiet  your  creditors;  but,  yesterday's  events  have 
placed  you  at  their  mercy — 

MERCADET. — You  believe  that?  Well,  my  dear,  you 
are  entirely  mistaken —  Oh,  is  that  you,  Monsieur 
Minard.  May  I  know  what  brings  you  here? 

MINARD. — Monsieur  Mercadet,  I  come — 

JULIE. — Father,  he  wishes  to — 

MERCADET. — Do  you  want  to  ask  me  again  for  my 
daughter's  hand? 

MINARD. — Yes,  sir,  I  do. 

MERCADET. — But  they  all  say  that  I  shall  be  a  bank- 
rupt in  a  few  hours — 

MINARD. — I  know  it,  sir. 

MERCADET. — And  you  do  not  mind  marrying  a  bank- 
rupt's daughter? 

MINARD. — No,  because  I  will  work  hard  to  help  him 
get  upon  his  feet  again. 

JULIE. — Well  spoken,  Adolphe! 

MERCADET,  aside. — Fine  young  fellow —  I'll  interest 
him  in  my  very  next  venture. 

MINARD. — I  informed  the  gentleman  who  has  acted 
as  my  guardian  of  my  deep  attachment  for  your 
daughter,  and  I  learned  from  him  that  I  had  a  small 
fortune  coming  to  me. 

MERCADET. — A  fortune — 

MINARD. — Yes,  it  appears  that  when  I  was  placed 
under  his  care,  a  certain  sum  of  money  was  given  him 
in  trust;  he  invested  it  profitably  and  it  amounts  now 
to  30,000  francs. 

MERCADET. — Thirty  thousand  francs! 

MINARD. — As  soon  as  I  heard  of  the  misfortune  that 


220  MERCADET 

had  befallen  you,  I  sold  the  securities  representing 
this  small  capital,  and  I  bring  you  the  proceeds,  sir. 
Sometimes  by  paying  small  amounts  on  account 
creditors  are  disposed  to  enter  into  arrangements — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — What  a  generous  heart! 

JULIE,  proudly. — Now  you  see,  father — 

MERCADET. — Thirty  thousand  francs!  (Aside.}  I 
might  treble  the  sum  by  buying  stock  of  Verdelin's 
gas  company,  and  then  double  it  again  by — but  no, 
no —  (To  Minard.}  Child,  you  are  still  in  the  age  of 
blind  devotion —  If  I  knew  how  to  pay  200,000  francs 
with  30,000  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for  me  to 
make  the  fortune  of  France,  without  speaking  of  my 
own  and  that  of  many  others — but — but  you  had  better 
keep  your  money? 

MINARD. — What!     You  refuse  it? 

MERCADET,  aside. — Suppose  I  use  it  to  keep  them 
quiet  for  a  month —  During  that  time,  I'll  have  no 
trouble  finding  some  broken-down  stock  that  needs 
galvanizing,  and  then —  But  it  would  break  my  heart 
to  thus  endanger  these  poor  children's  money —  It's 
wretched  business  one  does  with  moist  eyes —  Stock- 
holders' money  is  the  only  good  kind  to  speculate  with 
— no,  no —  (Aloud.}  Adolphe,  you  shall  marry  my 
daughter ! 

MINARD. — O  Monsieur  Mercadet!    O  Julie!  My  Julie! 

MERCADET. — You  shall  marry  her  as  soon  as  I  can 
give  her  300,000  francs  as  her  portion. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Husband  ! 

JULIE. — Father! 

MINARD. — Ah,  sir,  how  long  am  I  to  wait! 
MERCADET. — Wait?     You  may  have  to  wait  a  month — 
perhaps  less — 


MERCADET  221 

ALL  TOGETHER. — But  how  Can  that  be? 

MERCADET. — Oh,  my  brains  will  do  it — with  a  little 
money —  (Minard  hands  him  his  pocket-book.)  You 
take  your  money  away!  Better  still,  lead  my  wife  and 
daughter  into  the  next  room ;  I  want  to  be  alone. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  aside. — Is  he  planning  something 
against  his  creditors?  I  must  know  what  it  is — 
(Aloud.)  Come,  Julie. 

JULIE. — Father,  you  are  the  kindest — 

MERCADET. — Of  course,  I  am! 

JULIE. — And  I  love  you  dearly. 

MERCADET. — Of  course,  again! 

JULIE. — Adolphe,  I  do  not  thank  you;  I  shall  have 
my  whole  life  for  doing  that. 

MINARD. — Dear  Julie — 

MERCADET,  leading  them  to  the  back  of  the  stage. — Well, 
well,  you  can  go  on  with  your  idyl  in  another  room — 
(Exeunt  the  two  ladies  and  Minard  by  the  left  door  at  the 
back.) 


SCENE   III 

MERCADET.      Later  DE  LA  BRIVE. 

MERCADET. — I  resisted.  It  was  a  good  impulse  and 
a  mistake —  Well,  if  I  have  finally  to  give  in,  I'll 
amuse  myself  husbanding  their  little  fortune —  I 
shall  do  their  investing —  How  truly  my  girl  is 
beloved!  These  two  young  ones  have  hearts  of  gold! 
(He  walks  to  the  door  to  the  right.)  Let  us  now  begin  to 
make  them  wealthy —  De  La  Brive  is  in  that  room 
waiting  for  me.  (He  looks  through  the  open  door  to  the 


222  MERCADET 

right. .)  I  think  he  has  fallen  asleep —  I  suppose  he 
had  a  bad  night —  (Shouting.)  "The  Constable, 
Michonnin,  the  Constable!" 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  coming  out  of  the  room,  rubbing  his  eyes. — 
What's  that  you  say? 

MERCADET. — Don't  get  excited — I  simply  wanted  to 
wake  you  up.  (He  takes  a  chair  near  the  center  table.) 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  standing  at  the  other  side  of  the  table. — 
Monsieur  Mercadet,  a  spree  is  for  my  brain  what  a 
shower  is  for  the  country — it  freshens  it  up ;  my  ideas 
begin  to  grow,  to  bloom !  In  Vino  Varietas. 

MERCADET. — Yesterday,  we  were  interrupted  just  as 
we  were  getting  down  to  business. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Father-in-law,  I  remember  every 
word  of  our  conversation —  We  had  just  discovered 
that  neither  of  our  firms  could  keep  its  engagements — 
We  are  about  being  sold  out,  as  they  say  on  'Change. 
You  are  unfortunate  enough  to  be  my  creditor  to  the 
tune  of  forty-seven  thousand  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
three  francs  and  a  few  centimes,  and  I  have  the  luck 
to  be  your  debtor  to  that  same  amount. 

MERCADET. — Your  head  does  not  seem  heavy — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Nothing  heavy  about  me,  not  even 
my  pockets,  nor,  for  that  matter,  my  conscience. 
Anyway,  what  can  they  reproach  me  with?  While 
spending  my  substance,  I  enriched  many  a  branch  of 
Parisian  trade,  even  those  branches  that  are  not  openly 
talked  about.  They  say  we,  the  fast  set,  are  lazy 
drones !  Why,  the  impulse  we  give  to  the  circulation 
of  money — 

MERCADET. — By  adding  your  notes  to  the  volume  of 
currency —  Oh,  your  intelligence  is  wide-awake,  I'll 
admit  that  much. 


MERCADET  223 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — That's  all  I've  left,  you  know. 

MERCADET. — But  that's  the  mint  for  such  as  you 
and  I.  Seeing  you  so  well  disposed  I  shall  be  brief  in 
my  statement. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — In  that  case,  with  your  permission, 
I'll  sit  down! 

MERCADET. — Listen —  You  have  come  close  to  this 
dangerous  slope  that  leads  down  to  the  bold  expedients 
which  are  the  sole  resources  of  those  men  whom  fools 
call  sharpers.  You  have  tasted  the  intoxicating  fruits 
of  Parisian  pleasure ;  luxury  has  become  a  companion 
you  "could  not  now  dispense  with.  Paris,  for  you, 
begins  in  front  of  the  Jockey-Club  and  ends  at  the 
Triumphal  Arch  of  the  Star.  Paris,  for  you,  is  prin- 
cipally composed  of  those  women  who  are  spoken  of 
too  much — or  never — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — You  are  right — 

MERCADET. — Your  Paris  is  the  shady  atmosphere 
wherein  moves  the  journalist,  the  theatrical  man,  the 
political  adventurer;  a  deep  ocean  out  of  which  one 
may  fish — everything —  Well,  this  form  of  Parisian 
life,  you  must  continue  to  lead,  or  blow  out  your 
brains ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — No,  no,  continue  to  lead! 

MERCADET. — Do  you  feel  in  you  the  necessary  genius 
to  stand,  in  your  patent  leather  shoes,  up  to  the  level 
of  your  aspirations?  To  domineer  over  people  by  the 
power  of  money  or  that  of  intelligence?  Have  you 
the  strength  to  steer  your  way  between  these  two 
shoals  whereon  swelldom  is  infallibly  wrecked :  the  two- 
franc  table  d'hote  and  the  debtors'  prison? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — My  dear  man,  you  break  into  my 
inner  self  as  if  you  were  a  burglar —  You  express  my 


224  MERCADET 

very  thoughts.  And,  now,  what  do  you  want  of 
me? 

MERCADET. — I  want  to  save  your  life  by  launching 
you  on  the  sea  of  affairs. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — How  will  you  do  it? 

MERCADET. — Let  me  choose  the  gate. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. 1  Say 

MERCADET. — But  the  man  who  will  be  compromised 
in  my  stead — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Ah!  straw-men  have  been  burned  up 
before ! 

MERCADET. — Be  incombustible ! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — And  what  about  the  division  of  profits? 

MERCADET. — This  will  be  an  experiment.  Serve  me 
boldly  in  the  desperate  circumstances  in  which  I  now 
find  myself,  and  I  will  make  you  a  present  of  your 
47,232  francs  of  debt.  All  that's  needed  is  a  little  skill. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — With  pistol  or  sword? 

MERCADET. — I  want  nobody  killed — on  the  contrary. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  like  it  better  that  way. 

MERCADET. — We  must  bring  a  man  back  to  life. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Oh,  pray,  none  of  that,  my  dear  friend. 
The  pretended  legacy,  Harpagon's  cash-box,  Scapin's 
little  mule,  all  these  farces  which  amuse  us  so  much 
in  the  old  plays  are  looked  upon  with  great  disfavor 
in  real  life  nowadays.  They  are  apt  to  bring  a  lot  of 
policemen  on  one's  track  and  we  are  not  allowed  to 
thrash  them  as  our  fathers  did. 

MERCADET. — Oh,  five  years  in  the  debtors'  prison — 
What's  that?—  A  mere  trifle! 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — But,  after  all,  it  depends  on  what  you 
want  me  to  do.  Only  remember,  my  reputation,  so 
far,  is  spotless,  and  it's  worth — 


MERCADET  225 

MERCADET. — I  understand —  You  want  it  well 
invested —  Do  not  worry  on  that  score;  we'll  need  it 
too  much  by  and  by  not  to  get  out  of  it  its  full  value. 
Just  help  me  to  keep  my  seat  at  the  well-laden  table 
of  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  we'll  get  our  fill  of  the 
good  things.  Don't  you  know,  my  dear  fellow,  that  if 
millions  are  hard  to  find,  yet  they  are  not  found  at  all 
if  not  looked  for. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — One  might  try  to  enter  your  little 
game.  You'll  return  to  me  my  47,000  francs — 

MERCADET,  in  English. — Yes,  sir. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — And  I'll  simply  have  to  be — very 
clever? 

MERCADET. — Well —  Perhaps  a  trifle  more  than 
clever —  But  that  "trifle  more"  will  be,  as  the  Eng- 
lish say,  "On  the  right  side  of  the  law." 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — What  does  it  consist  of  anyway? 

MERCADET,  giving  him  a  written  paper. — Here  are 
your  instructions.  You  are  to  be  something  like  an 
uncle  from  America — in  fact,  a  partner  returning  from 
India — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  understand. 

MERCADET. — Go  to  a  carriage-dealer  on  the  Champs- 
Elyse"es ;  hire  or  purchase  a  post-chaise ;  have  it  prop- 
erly soiled  and  mud-covered.  Then  drive  to  this  house 
with  postillion,  bells,  etc.  yourself  wrapped  up  in  a 
heavy  fur  coat  and  your  head  and  face  almost  smoth- 
ered under  a  huge  beaver  cap,  like  a  traveller  from  a 
tropical  climate  suffering  under  our  chilly  skies.  I'll 
welcome  you;  I'll  introduce  you;  you'll  talk  to  my 
creditors,  not  one  of  whom  knew  Godeau;  you'll  keep 
them  in  a  patient  humor — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — For  how  long? 


226  MERCADET 

MERCADET. — All  I  need  is  two  days — two  days,  during 
which  Pierquin  will  have  completed,  for  my  account, 
the  heavy  purchases  of  stock  I  shall  order  as  soon  as 
you  "arrive" —  Two  days,  during  which  I  shall  know 
how  to  boom  the  shares  in  question —  You'll  be  my 
backer,  my  living  guarantee — and,  as  nobody  will 
recognize  you — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — All  right,  I  will  do  it;  but,  remember, 
I'll  cease  playing  the  part  as  soon  as  I  shall  have  given 
you  enough  of  it  to  be  worth  47,233  francs  and  a  few 
centimes. 

MERCADET. — That's  understood —  Hush!  Some- 
body—  Oh,  my  wife. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  entering  from  the  left  side. — My 
dear,  they  have  just  brought  some  letters  for  you, 
requiring  immediate  answers.  (She  walks  toward  the 
mantel-piece.) 

MERCADET.' — I'll  attend  to  them  at  once.  (In  a  low 
voice  to  de  La  Brive.)  Not  a  word  to  my  wife,  she  would 
not  understand  the  move  and  might  upset  it.  (Aloud.) 
Now,  go  at  it  quickly,  and  forget  nothing. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Have  no  fear.  (Exit  Mercadet  by  the 
door  at  the  right ;  de  La  Brive  is  about  to  leave  through 
the  center  back  door>  when  Madame  Mercadet  stops  him.) 


SCENE    IV 

MADAME  MERCADET.     DE  LA  BRIVE. 
DE  LA  BRIVE. — Madame? 

MADAME  MERCADET. ExCUSC  me.   Sir. 


MERCADET  227 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  hope  you  will  kindly  excuse  me  also, 
Madame,  but  I  must  go  at  once — 

MADAME  MERCADET. YOU  Shall  not  gO 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — You  are  not  aware — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — I  am  aware  of  everything — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — How  can  it  be? 

MADAME  MERCADET. — You  are  planning,  you  and  my 
husband,  to  make  use  of  an  old  comedy  trick !  I  made 
use  of  a  still  older  one —  I  repeat  to  you,  sir,  I  am 
aware  of  everything — 

DE  LA  BRIVE,  aside. — She  has  been  listening. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  walking  doivn  the  stage. — Monsieur 
de  La  Brive,  the  part  you  have  been  asked  to  play,  is 
a  wicked,  shameful  one ;  you  will  have  to  give  it  up. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — But,  Madame — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Oh,  I  know  what  I  am  talking 
about,  sir.  It  was  only  a  few  hours  ago  that  I  saw 
you  for  the  first  time,  and  yet — I  believe  I  know  you — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — If  it  be  so,  Madame,  I  wonder  what 
opinion  you  have  of  me. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — One  day  was  sufficient  for  me 
to  judge  you.  And  while  my  husband  was  endeavor- 
ing to  discover  what  mad  instinct  he  might  exploit  or 
what  unholy  passion  awaken  within  you,  I,  sir,  sounded 
your  heart  and  discovered  what  worthy  sentiments  it 
still  harbored,  and  how  they  could  save  you. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Save  me?  I  wonder,  Madame — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Yes,  sir,  save  you  and  my  hus- 
band with  you.  Do  you  not  understand  that  you  are 
both  rushing  to  your  ruin?  To  have  debts  is  no  dis- 
honor, provided  one  confesses  them  frankly,  and  works 
hard  to  extinguish  them —  Think  of  it,  you  have  your 
whole  life  before  you,  and  you  are  a  great  deal  too 


228  MERCADET 

sensible  to  be  willing  to  blast  it  forever  by  sharing  in 
an  enterprise  punishable  in  the  criminal  court — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — The  criminal  court!!  Ah,  Madame, 
you  are  indeed  right,  and  I  should  not,  for  a  minute 
lend  myself  to  so  dangerous  an  undertaking  were  it 
not  that  your  husband  holds  over  me  papers — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Which  he  will  return  to  you, 
sir,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — But,  Madame,  I  have  not  the  money 
to  redeem  them ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — We  will  accept  your  word  as 
full  security,  and  you  will  pay  us  when  you  have  made 
an  honest  fortune. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — An  honest  fortune —  It  may  prove  a 
pretty  long  contract — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — We  will  wait,  sir ;  but  now,  go 
and  tell  my  husband  that  you  withdraw  your  assist- 
ance, so  that  he  may  give  up  this  attempt.  (She  walks 
to  the  door  at  the  left.} 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  do  not  especially  care  to  see  him. 
I  should  prefer  to  write. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  pointing  to  Mm  the  door  through 
which  he  entered. — In  that  room,  you  will  find  all  you 
need.  Wait  there,  until  I  come  for  your  letter.  I 
will  deliver  it  to  him  myself. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — It  shall  be  as  you  say,  Madame.  I 
begin  to  believe  I  am  not  half  so  bad  a  man  as  I 
thought  myself.  You  have  revealed  me  to  myself  and 
my  deepest  gratitude  is  yours.  (He  kisses  her  hand 
with  great  respect.)  Thank  you,  Madame,  thank  you.' 
(He  leaves  the  room  ly  the  indicated  door.) 

MADAME  MERCADET. — So  far  I  have  succeeded.  If 
only  I  can  decide  Mercadet! 


MERCADET  229 

JUSTIN,  entering  from  the  lack. — Madame — Madame 
here  they  come — all  of  them — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Who?      All? 

JUSTIN. — Monsieur's  creditors. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Already! 

JUSTIN. — And  there  are  lots  of  them. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Bring  them  all  here.  I'll 
notify  Monsieur.  (She  goes  out  through  the  door  at  the 
left.  Justin  opens  the  door  to  the  right.) 


SCENE    V 

PIERQUIN.     GOULARD,  ana  a  number  of  other  CREDITORS. 

GOULARD. — Gentlemen,  we  are  all  fully  decided? 

ALL. — Yes,  yes! 

PIERQUIN. — No  more  deceptive  promises — 

GOULARD. — No  more  prayers,  no  more  supplica- 
tions— 

VIOLETTE. — No  more  of  those  on-account  payments 
that  help  him  to  reach  the  bottom  of  our  purses ! 


SCENE  VI 

\ 

THE  PRECEDING.     MERCADET. 

MERCADET,  entering  by  the  left. — This  means  that  you 
gentlemen  are  going  to  force  me  into  bankruptcy. 

GOULARD. — Unless  you  manage  to  pay  to-day  every 
franc  you  owe  us. 

MERCADET. — To-day ! 

PIERQUIN. — This  very  afternoon! 


230  MERCADET 

MERCADET,  standing,  his  lack  to  the  mantel-piece. — Do 
you  think  I  have  the  free  use  of  the  bank-note  plates 
of  the  Bank  of  France? 

VIOLETTE,  seating  himself  to  the  right. — And  so  you 
have  nothing  to  offer  us? 

MERCADET. — Not  a  blessed  centime!  'So  you  are 
going  to  jail  me,  are  you?  I  pity  the  one  who'll  pay 
for  the  cab — he  will  not  get  the  fare  money  out  of  my 
assets. 

GOULARD. — Well  then,  I'll  add  it  to  what  you  owe 
me  already — on  the  profit  and  loss  page  of  my  ledger. 

MERCADET. — Thanks —  And  so,  you  are  all  perfectly 
decided  to  act? 

THE  CREDITORS. — YeS,  yCS. 

MERCADET. — Touching  unanimity!  (Pidling  out  his 
watch.)  Two  o'clock.  (Aside.)  De  La  Brive  has  had 
plenty  of  time,  he  must  be  on  his  way  to  the  house — 
(Aloud.)  Gentlemen,  let  me  compliment  you  upon 
the  opportune  inspiration  that  has  made  you  choose 
this  very  day ! 

PIERQUIN. — What  does  he  mean? 

MERCADET. — For  months,  for  years,  I  might  say,  you 
have  allowed  yourselves  to  be  tempted  by  fine  prom- 
ises, to  be  deceived — yes,  deceived  by  the  most  impos- 
sible tales,  and  it  is  to-day  of  all  days  that  you  choose 
to  show  yourselves  pitiless !  My  word  of  honor,  I  call 
this  a  ^capital  joke!  By  all  means,  gentlemen,  let  us 
go  to  jail. 

GOULARD. — But,  sir — 

PIERQUIN. — He  is  actually  laughing! 

VIOLETTE,  rising  excitedly. — There  is  something, 
gentlemen,  there  is  something — 

PIERQUIN. — Will  you,  please,  explain  to  us — 


MERCADET  231 

GOULARD. — We  wish  to  know. 

VIOLET  TE. — Now,  Monsieur  Mercadet,  if  there  is 
really  something,  tell  it  to  us,  please  do. 

MERCADET,  walking  to  the  round  table. — Nothing — 
I'll  say  nothing —  I  demand  to  be  carted  to  jail!  I 
want  to  see  the  kind  of  faces  you  will  pull  to-morrow, 
or  even  to-night,  when  you  hear  of  his  return — 

GOULARD,  rising. — His  return? 

PIERQUIN. — What  return? 

VIOLETTE. — Whose  return? 

MERCADET,  walking  to  the  front. — The  return  of — of 
nobody —  Let  us  start  for  the  jail,  gentlemen — 

GOULARD. — Still — if  you  are  really  expecting  some 
assistance — 

PIERQUIN. — If  you  have  any  serious  hopes — 

VIOLETTE. — Should  it  only  be  a  heavy  legacy — 

GOULARD. — Out  with  it! 

PIERQUIN. — Answer ! 

VIOLETTE. Tell  US — 

MERCADET. — Ah,  you  ought  to  beware —  You  are 
weakening,  gentlemen,  actually  weakening;  if  I  cared 
to,  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  now  to  fool  you  once 
more.  Brace  up,  I  say,  be  again  the  hard,  simon-pure 
creditors !  Forget  the  past,  forget  those  blessed  days 
when,  through  me,  you  were  coining  money  in  the 
splendid  affairs  I  used  to  interest  you  in  before  the 
departure  of  my  good  old  Godeau — 

GOULARD. — His  good  old  Godeau! 

PIERQUIN. — What  if  it  were  he — 

MERCADET. — Forget  all  this  delightful  past,  take  no 
account  of  the  circumstances  that  might  bring  about  a 
return  so — long  awaited —  Never  mind  all  this.  Gen- 
tlemen, let  us  ride  to  jail. 


232  MERCADET 

VIOLETTE. — Mercadet,  you  are  expecting  Godeau? 

MERCADET.  — No — 

VIOLETTE,  as  if  inspired. — Gentlemen,  he  is  expecting 
Godeau! , 

GOULARD. — Could  this  be  true? 

PIERQUIN. — Speak  out! 

ALL  THE  CREDITORS. — Speak!     Speak! 

MERCADET,  weakly  protesting. — But  I  cannot  speak — 
I  tell  you  I  cannot —  Of  course  he  may  some  day 
come  back  to  us  from  India — with  a — large  fortune — 
(Speaking  witlipositiveness.)  Now,  I  give  you  my  word 
of  honor  I — do — not— expect — Godeau — back  to-day. 

VIOLETTE,  excitedly. — Then  he's  to  arrive  to-morrow — 
Gentlemen,  he  expects  him  to-morrow ! 

GOULARD,  addressing  his  fellow  creditors  in  a  low  voice. 
—Unless  this  is  a  new  dodge  to  fool  us  and  gain  some 
more  time — 

PIERQUIN,  louder. — You  think  so? 

GOULARD. — It's  quite  possible. 

VIOLETTE,  in  a  loud  voice. — Gentlemen,  he  is  fooling 
us — 

MERCADET,  aside. — The  wind  is  turning!  (Aloud.) 
Well,  gentlemen,  when  do  we  start? 

GOULARD. — Perhaps —  (A  carriage  is  heard  stopping 
in  front  of  the  house.) 

MERCADET,  aside. — At  last.  (Aloud.)  Heavens! 
(He  puts  his  hand  on  his  heart.) 

A  POSTILION'S  VOICE,  heard  in  the  street. — Gate, 
please. 

MERCADET,  letting  himself  fall  into  an  arm-chair. — Ah!! 

GOULARD,  running  to  the  wide  pane  of  glass  above  the 
•mantle-piece.  — A  carriage ! 

PIERQUIN,  from  the  same  place. — With    post-horses! 


MERCADET  233 

VIOLXTTE,  from  the  same  place,  impressively. — Gentle- 
men, it  is  a  post-chaise ! 

GOULARD. — Look,  look,  it  is  covered  over  with  dust — 

VIOLETTE. — And  muddy  up  to  the  hood —  It  must 
have  come  from  furthest  India,  to  be  so  dirty ! 

MERCADET  gently. — You  do  not  know  what  you  are 
talking  about,  Violette.  People  do  not  ride  all  the 
way  from  India  in  a  post-chaise,  my  good  fellow — 

GOULARD. — Come  and  look,  Mercadet,  a  man  is  step- 
ping out — 

PIERQUIN. — Wrapped  up  in  a  heavy  fur  coat — come 
here,  come  here — 

MERCADET. — Excuse  me,  I  prefer  not — my  joy — my 
emotion — I — 

VIOLETTE,  shouting. — Look  at  the  enormous  cash-box 
he  carries  under  his  arm —  Gentlemen,  it  is  Godeau! 
I  know  him  by  his  cash-box ! 

GOULARD. — He  returns  from  Calcutta — 

PIERQUIN. — With  a  fortune — 

GOULARD. — An  incalculable  fortune! 

VIOLETTE,  triumphantly. — What  did  I  tell  you?  (He 
walks  to  Mercadet  and  shakes  his  hand  in  silence;  Goulard 
and  Pierquin  go  through  the  same  performance,  which  is 
•imitated  by  all  the  other  creditors.} 

MERCADET,  with  well-feigned  emotion. — Ah,  gentlemen, 
believe  me — I  am  delighted — my  friends — my  dear 
comrades — 

SCENE   VII 

THE  PRECEDING.     MADAME  MERCADET. 

MADAME  MERCADET,  entering  through  the  back  door  to  the 
left. — Mercadet!  My  dear  husband! 


234  MERCADET 

MERCADET,  aside. — My  wife !  I  thought  she  had  gone 
out ! !  She'll  upset  everything! ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Dear  heart,  don't  you  know 
what  has  just  happened? 

MERCADET. — No —     That  is, — yes — I — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Godeau  has  this  moment  re- 
turned ! 

MERCADET. — What?  What  did  you  say?  (Aside.) 
Is  she  also — ? 

MADAME  MERCADET. — I  have  seen  him  —  I  have 
spoken  to  him — It  was  I  who  received  him — 

MERCADET,  aside. — De  La  Brive  must  have  converted 
her!  What  a  man  he  is!  (Aloud.)  Continue,  my  dear 
wife,  continue,  you  are  saving  us — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — I  am  not,  but  he,  he — 

MERCADET,  to  her  in  a  low  voice. — That  will  do. 
(Aloud.)  Gentlemen,  you  must  excuse  me,  but  I  shall 
have  to  go  and  welcome  my — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — Not  yet,  dear,  not  quite  yet; 
our  friend,  poor  Godeau,  has  over-exerted  himself — 
Hardly  had  he  reached  our  house  when  fatigue  and 
emotion  caused  him  to  break  down —  He  is  trying  to 
recover  from  a  nervous  spell — 

MERCADET. — Is  that  so?     (Aside.)     She  is  ^splendid! 

VIOLETTE. — Poor  Godeau ! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — He  just  said  to  me :  "Madame, 
I  beg  you — go  to  your  husband,  ask  him  to  forgive 
me;  I  do  not  dare  to  meet  him  before  I  have  repaired 
the  past. ' ' 

GOULARD. — That's  beautiful! 

PIERQUIN. — It's  sublime! 

VIOLETTE. — It  brings  tears  to  my  eyes! 

.MERCADET,  aside. — I   declare,    what   a    consummate 


MERCADET  235 

actress"!  have  as  a  wife !  and  I  never  had  the  remotest 
idea  of  it!  (Talcing  her  hand.)  Dear  wife — you'll 
excuse  me,  gentlemen!  (He  kisses  her  cheek  and 
whispers.}  You  are  doing  first  rate! 

MADAME  MERCADET,  in  a  low  voice. — What  happiness, 
dear  husband !  and  is  it  not  a  hundred  times  better 
than  what  you  planned? 

MERCADET. — Of  course  it  is !  (Aside.}  And  much 
more  clever —  (Aloud.}  Go  back  to  him,  dear;  and 
you,  gentlemen,  will  you  kindly  come  to  my  study. 
(Pointing  to  the  door  to  the  left. }  And  in  a  few  minutes 
we  shall  have  a  settling  of  accounts.  (Madame  Mer- 
cadet  leaves  through  the  door  at  the  right  rear  of  the  stage. } 

GOULARD. — We  are  at  your  service,  my  dear  friend. 

PIERQUIN. — My  excellent  friend! 

VIOLET TE. — Our  friend,  we  are  yours  to  command. 

MERCADET,  one  hand  leaning  on  the  center-table,  con- 
ceitedly.— Well,  well —  And  some  folks  used  to  say 
that  I  was  nothing  but  a  common  sharper — 

GOULARD. — You!  One  of  the  most  intelligent  men 
in  Paris! 

PIERQUIN. — Who  will  earn  millions  after  you  have 
won  the  first  one ! 

VIOLETTE. — Dear  Monsieur  Mercadet,  we  will  await 
your  convenience  for  the  settlement — 

ALL  THE  CREDITORS. — Certainly,  certainly — 

MERCADET. — A  rather  late  offer!  All  the  same,  gen- 
tlemen, I  thank  you  for  it  as  if  you  had  made  it  yester- 
day. Good-by  then,  for  the  present —  (Low  to 
Goulard.}  Within  an  hour  I'll  have  your  stock  sold — 

GOULARD. — All  right. 

MERCADET,  low  to  Pierquin. — You,  stay —  (All  the 
others  leave  through  the  door  to  the  left.) 

PIERQUIN. — I'll  stay. 


236  MERCADET 

SCENE  VIII 

MERCADET.     PIERQUIN. 

MERCADET. — Alone  at  last —  We  have  not  a  minute 
to  lose —  Yesterday,  as  you  know,  the  Basse  Indre 
mining  stock  fell  down  several  points —  I  want  you 
to  go  straight  to  the  Bourse  and  buy  for  my  account 
200,  300,  600  shares —  Goulard  alone  will  sell  you  half 
the  amount. 

PIERQUIN. — When  are  they  to  be  delivered  and 
where  is  your  margin? 

MERCADET. — A  margin/ what  for?  It's  a  cash  deal. 
Bring  me  the  certificate  to-night,  and  you'll  have  the 
amount  to-morrow. 

PIERQUIN. — To-morrow,  sure? 

MERCADET. — Sure.  (Aside.)  By  that  time  the  stock 
will  have  climbed  up  sky-high. 

PIERQUIN. — Of  course,  in  your  present  situation, 
you  are  buying  for  Godeau? 

MERCADET. — You  think  so? 

PIERQUIN. — He  must  have  sent  you  instructions  to 
that  effect  in  the  letter  announcing  his  return. 

MERCADET. — That  may  be —  Ah,  Master  Pierquin, 
we  are  starting  in  business  again —  Within  the  year, 
you  will  have  made  a  hundred  thousand  francs  in  com- 
missions out  of  us. 

PIERQUIN. — A  hundred  thousand  francs! 

MERCADET. — You  begin  right  away  to  drive  down 
that  stock  and  then  buy  gradually.  (He  gives  him  a 
paper.)  Here  is  a  letter  to  be  inserted  in  the  late  edi- 
tion of  the  evening  papers;  it  will  send  the  stock 
shooting  up  like  a  rocket.  On  the  curb,  to-night, 


MERCADET  237 

there   will   be   a  twenty  per  cent,   rise —     Only  be 
quick — 

PIERQUIN. — I  am  flying — Good-by. 

(Exit  Pierquin.) 


SCENE    IX 

MERCADET.     Later  JUSTIN. 

MERCADET. — Everything  is  in  fine  running  order 
now,  full  steam  up!  The  day  Mahomet  had  recruited 
three  associates  who  honestly  believed  in  him  (such 
men  are  awfully  hard  to  find)  the  world  was  his !  And 
I  have  all  my  creditors  won  over  already.  Thanks  to 
the  pretended  return  of  Godeau,  I  have  a  week  before 
me,  and  in  money  matters,  a  week  means  a  fortnight — 
I  will  buy  300,000  francs'  worth  of  Basse-Indre  stock 
ahead  of  Verdelin !  And  when  Verdelin  tries  to  get 
them  for  himself,  his  bidding — will  create  the  rise — 
It's  sure  to  go  far  above  par —  I'll  not  let  go  of  my 
shares  under  600,000  francs  profit.  300,000  pays  for 
everything  I  owe  and  once  more  I  shall  be  proclaimed 
the  Napoleon  of  finance ! 

JUSTIN,  from  the  lack  of  the  stage,  at  the  left. — Sir — 
MERCADET. — What's  the  matter,  Justin? 
JUSTIN. — Monsieur  Violette,  sir — 
MERCADET. — Well,  what  of  him,  speak  out — 
JUSTIN. — He  offers  me  sixty  francs,  if  I  will  let  him 
speak  to  Monsieur  Godeau. 

MERCADET. — Sixty  francs.  (Aside.)  He  robbed  me 
of  it! 


238  MERCADET 

JUSTIN. — Monsieur  would  not  have  me  lose  these 
small  perquisites. 

MERCADET — All  right —     Let  yourself  be  bought  up — 

JUSTIN. — And  the  others,  sir,  Monsieur  Goulard,  all 
of  them —  They  are  crazy  to  see  Monsieur  Godeau — 

MERCADET. — Do  their  bidding,  Justin ;  I  deliver  them 
into  your  hands,  shear  them  close — 

JUSTIN. — I'll  shear  them  close  enough — thank  you, 
sir — 

MERCADET. — Let  them  all  see  Godeau —  (Aside.) 
De  La  Brive  will  manage  it  all  right.  (Aloud.)  Stop 
a  minute —  All  of  them  except  Pierquin —  (Aside.) 
He  might  recognize  his  Michonnin! 

JUSTIN. — It's  all  right,  sir.  Ah,  here  conies  Monsieur 
Minard.  (Exit  Justin  by  the  left  rear  door.) 


SCENE   X 

MERCADET.     MINARD. 

MINARD,  as  he  comes  forward. — Ah,  Monsieur  Mer- 
cadet ! ! 

MERCADET. — Well,  Monsieur  Minard,  what  brings 
you  here  now? 

MINARD. — Despair,  sir. 

MERCADET. — Despair?     What  about? 

MINARD. — Monsieur  Godeau  has  returned —  They 
all  say  you  are  a  millionaire  again ! 

MERCADET. — And  that's  the  cause  of  your  despair,  is 
it? 

MINARD. — Indeed  it  is,  sir. 

MERCADET. — Well,     you    are    the    strangest     boy— 


MERCADET  239 

Yesterday,  I  revealed  to  you  my  total  ruin,  and  you 
were  delighted.  To-day  you  learn  that  fortune  is 
smiling  upon  me  again,  and  you  are  in  despair!  Why, 
my  dear  fellow,  you  want  to  enter  my  family,  and  yet 
you  behave  like  an  enemy — 

MINARD. — But  it  is  this  very  fortune  that  causes  me 
such  terror.  I  am  deathly  afraid  that  now  you  will 
not  grant  me  your  daughter's  hand — 

MERCADET. — My  daughter's  hand —  Adolphe,  you 
ought  to  know  that  not  all  the  business  men  lock  up 
their  hearts  in  their  safes —  Our  feelings  are  not  always 
governed  by  the  rules  of  debit  and  credit —  You 
offered  me  thirty  thousand  francs,  all  you  possessed ! 
I  have  no  right  to  dismiss  you  now  on  account  of  the 
millions  (aside)  I  have  not  got  yet ! 

MINARD. — Ah,  sir,  you  give  me  a  new  lease  of  life — 

MERCADET. — Do  I?  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  for  I 
am  very  fond  of  you —  Your  honesty  is  so  natural 
and  simple  that  you  have  no  idea  how  deeply  it 
touches  me —  It's  such  a  change  from —  Ah,  just 
wait  till  I  have  cashed  in  my  600,000  francs —  (Seeing 
Pierquin  entering  the  room.}  Here  they  come — 


SCENE   XI 

THE  PRECEDING.     PIERQUIN.     VERDELIN. 

MERCADET,  not  noticing  Verdehn,  leads  Pierquin  to  the 
front  of  tlie  stage. — Well,  and  how  are  things  turning 
out? 

PIERQUIN,  showing  some  embarrassment.  —  The  pur- 
chases have  all  been  made — 


240  MERCADET 

MERCADET,  delighted.  — Bravo ! 

VERDELIN,  walking  to  Mercadet. — Good  afternoon! 

MERCADET. — Verdelin ! 

VERDELIN. — You  have  had  that  stock  bought  ahead 
of  me,  and  I'll  be  compelled  to  buy  it  back  at  a  much 
higher  figure —  But  I  do  not  mind  it  at  all.  It  was  a 
fine  stroke  of  business —  So  here  is  to  the  King  of 
the  Bourse !  To  the  Napoleon  of  Finance !  (He  bursts 
out  laughing  ironically.) 

MERCADET,  much  upset. — What  do  you  mean? 

VERDELIN. — Oh,  I  am  only  repeating  your  own  words 
of  yesterday — 

MERCADET. — My  own  words — 

PIERQUIN. — It  seems  that  Monsieur,  here — does  not 
believe  in  Monsieur  Godeau's  return— 

MINARD. — Ah,  sir,  how  can  you — 

MERCADET. — What!     Does  any  one  doubt- 

VERDELIN,  ironically. — Of  course  not —  At  first  I 
imagined  that  this  opportune  return  was  that  bold 
stroke  you  were  announcing  yesterday — 

MERCADET. — I —     (Aside.)     How  foolish  of  me ! 

VERDELIN. — And  that,  on  the  strength  of  the  presence 
of  a  pretended  Godeau,  you  ordered  stock  bought  for 
cash  to-day — without  a  franc  in  your  pocket — depend- 
ing upon  a  rise  to-morrow  to  settle  the  purchase 
price — 

MERCADET. — So  you  imagined  all  this,  did  you? 

VERDELIN,  walking  to  the  mantel-piece. — Yes,  I  imag- 
ined all  that —  But  when  I  came  here  and  saw  in 
your  court-yard  this  triumphant  post-chaise,  this 
master-piece  of  the  Hindoo  carriage-builders'  handi- 
craft, and  when  I  realized  that  no  such  vehicle  could 
be  had  from  any  of  the  Champs  Elyse*es  stables  all  my 


MERCADET  241 

doubts  vanished  in  a  trice.  So,  give  him  the  stock- 
certificates,  Monsieur  Pierquin,  give  him  the  certifi- 
cates— 

PIERQUIN. — The — certificates — certainly — but — 

MERCADET,  aside. — Let  us  show  a  bold  front  or  all  is 
lost.  (Aloud.}  That's  all  right —  Let  me  see  the 
certificates — 

PIERQUIN. — A  moment,  please,  supposing  what 
Monsieur  Verdelin  says  should  be  true. 

MERCADET,  stiffly . — What  do  you  mean,  sir? 

MINARD. — But  gentlemen,  Monsieur  Godeau  is  here — 
I  have  seen  him —  I  have  spoken  to  him — 

MERCADET,  to  Pierquin. — He  has  spoken  to  him — 

PIERQUIN,  to  Verdelin. — The  fact  is  that  I  myself  have 
seen — 

VERDELIN. — But  I  have  not  a  doubt  about  it  myself — 
now —  By  the  way,  Mercadet,  what  was  the  name  of 
the  ship  Godeau  wrote  you  he  was  coming  on — 

MERCADET. — The  name  of  the  ship?  It  was — Tlie 
Triton — I  believe — 

VERDEUN. — How  unreliable  the  newspapers  are! 
The  last  arrival  from  India  was  the  Alcyon —  No 
Triton  on  the  list  at  all — 

PIERQUIN. — Is  that  so? 

MERCADET. — Enough  about  this —  Monsieur  Pier- 
quin, where  are  those  certificates? 

PIERQUIN. — One  moment —  I  have  no  guarantee, 
you  know,  and — I  shall  want  to  speak  to  Godeau. 

MERCADET. — You  shall  not  speak  to  him,  sir,  I  won't 
allow  you  to  doubt  my  word. 

VERDELIN. — He  is  superb ! 

MERCADET. — Monsieur  Minard,  go  to  Godeau;  tell 
him  I  have  just  bought  300,000  francs  worth  of 


242  MERCADET 

securities;  ask  him  to  give  you  for  me —  (With  a 
special  stress  on  the  words  folloiving .}  — thirty  thousand 
francs  for  use  as  a  margin —  In  his  position  a 
man  always  has  at  least  30,000  francs  about  him. 
(Low.}  In  any  case,  you'll  bring  back  your  thirty 
thousand. 

MINARD. — Yes,  sir,  I'll  do  it  right  away.  (Exit 
Jfinard  through  the  door  to  the  right. ) 

MERCADET,  stiffly. — Will  this  satisfy  you,  Monsieur 
Pierquin? 

PIERQUIN. — Of  course  it  will —  (To  Verdelin.)  In 
that  case  he  really  must  have  returned. 

VERDELIN,  rising. — Better  wait  for  the  30,000 
francs ! 

MERCADET. — Verdelin,  I  have  the  right  to  show 
myself  deeply  offended  by  your  insulting  doubts ;  but, 
as  I  am  still  in  your  debt — 

VERDELIN,  coming  to  the  front  of  the  stage. — Oh,  that's 
nothing!  You  have  in  Godeau's  cash-box  all  you  need 
to  pay  everybody  in  full,  and,  besides,  by  to-morrow, 
the  Basse-Indre  stock  will  be  far  above  par —  When 
I  left  'Change  it  was  shooting  upward  at  a  great 
rate—  Your  letter  is  doing  wonders.  We '  11  be  obliged 
to  give  out  the  results  of  the  engineers'  new  survey. 
The  mine  is  worth  any  other  in  the  Mons  district — 
You  have  made  your  fortune  in  the  deal  when  I  ex- 
pected to  make  mine — 

MERCADET. — Now  I  understand  your  rage —  (To 
Pierquin.}  That's  the  origin  of  all  his  doubts. 

VERDELIN. — And  these  doubts  will  vanish  as  soon  as 
Godeau's  money  is  forthcoming — 


MERCADET  243 

SCENE    XII 

THE  PRECEDING.     VIOLETTE.     GOULARD. 

GOULARD,  entering  from  the  lack  door  at  the  right. — 
Ah,  my  friend  J 

VIOLETTE,  who  follows  him. — My  dear  Mercadet! 

GOULARD. — What  a  man  this  Godeau  is! 

MERCADET,  aside. — Fine! 

VIOLETTE. — What  delicate  sensibilities! 

MERCADET,  aside. — Finer  and  finer! 

GOULARD. — What  a  lofty  soul! 

MERCADET,  aside. — Delightful! 

VERDELIN. — You  have  seen  him? 

VIOLETTE. — Yes,  I  have  seen  him. 

PIERQJJIN. — You  have  spoken  to  him. 

GOULARD. — Just  as  I  speak  to  you  now.  And 
besides,  he  has  paid  me. 

ALL. — He  has  paid  you! 

MERCADET. — He  paid  you —    And  how? 

GOULARD. — He  paid  me  in  full:  50,000  francs  in 
drafts — 

MERCADET,  aside. — So  far,  I  understand — 

GOULARD. — And  the  balance — 8,000  francs,  in  notes. 

MERCADET. — In — bank  notes. 

GOULARD. — Of  course — in  bank  notes. 

MERCADET,  aside. — I  fail  to  understand —  Ah,  I  see! 
Minard  gave  the  8,000 — So  he'll  bring  only  22,000 — 

VIOLETTE. — And  I,  I  who  might  possibly  have 
accepted  some  slight  reduction  in  my  claim,  received 
the  whole  amount  on  the  spot. 

MERCADET. — The  whole  of  it —  (Low.)  In  drafts,  I 
suppose? 


244  MERCADET 

VIOLETTE. — Yes,  in  excellent  drafts,  eighteen  thou- 
sand francs — 

MKRCADET. — What  a  wonderful  man  this  De  La  Brive 
is! 

VIOLETTE. — And  the  balance,  twelve  thousand 
francs — 

VERDELIN. — Well,  the  balance? 

VIOLETTE. — He  paid  in  cash.  Here  it  is.  (He  dis- 
plays a  bundle  of  bank  notes.} 

MERCADET. — He  also —  (Aside.)  Minard  will  have 
only  ten  thousand  left — 

GOULARD,  taking  a  seat  near  the  round  table. — And  he 
is  now  engaged  in  settling  with  the  rest  of  the 
creditors. 

MERCADET. — On  the  same  basis? 

VIOLETTE,  also  taking  a  seat  by  the  round  table. — Yes, 
sir,  he  pays  them  in  drafts,  bank  notes  and  gold  coin. 

MERCADET,  forgetting  himself. — Good  Lord!  (Aside.) 
Minard  will  not  bring  back  a  centime ! 

VERDELIN,  eyeing  him  suspiciously. — But  what  is  the 
matter  with  you? 

MERCADET. — Matter  with  me? —    Nothing— only — I — 


SCENE    XIII 

THE  PRECEDING.      MINARD. 

MINARD. — I  fulfilled  your  errand — 

MERCADET,  trembling  with  excitement. — You  did — eh, 
and  you  bring  back  a  few  thousands  of — 

MINARD. — A  few  thousands !  Why,  Monsieur  Godeau 
would  not  even  hear  me  out  about  the  30,000  francs — 


MERCADET  245 

(Goulard  and  Violette  rise  from  their  seats  and  with  a 
couple  of  other  creditors  who  have  followed  Minard  in,  press 
excitedly  around  the  young  man.) 

MERCADET. — I  understand. 

MINARD. — "It  is  300,000  francs  he  wants,"  cried  he, 
"here  are  300,000  francs  in  bank  bills  for  him — "  (He 
pulls  out  an  enormous  bundle  of  notes,  which  he  piles  upon 
the  table.) 

MERCADET,  running  to  the  table  and  sitting  down  by 
it. — What  did  you  say —  (Looking  at  the  money.) 
What's  all  this? 

MINARD. — The  300,000  francs. 

PIERQUIN. — My  300,000  francs! 

VERDELIN. — True  after  all! 

MERCADET,  absolutely  bewildered. — Three — hundred — 
thousand — francs — in — cash — I  see  it — I  touch  it — I 
hold  it —  (To  Minard)  wildly.)  Where  did  you  get 
that  from? 

MINARD. — I  got  it  from  him,  of  course.  He  gave  it 
to  me — 

MERCADET,  with  growing  excitement. — He —  Who  is 
He?  What  is  He? 

MINARD. — Monsieur  Godeau,  who  else — ? 

MERCADET,  actually  shouting.  —  Godeau ! !  What 
Godeau?  Which  Godeau? 

GOULARD. — Why,  the  Godeau  who  just  returned  from 
India. 

MERCADET. — From  India? 

VIOLETTE. — Yes,  and  who  is  paying  all  your  debts. 

MERCADET. — Away  with  you,  do  you  think  I  can  be 
fooled  by  such  Godeaus ! 

PIERQUIN. — He  must  be  losing  his  head!  (Just  then 
the  crowd  of  other  creditors  appear  at  the  back  of  the  stage. 


246  MERCADET 

Verdelin  walks  over  to  meet  them  and  is  seen  asking  ques- 
tions.) 

VERDELIN,  coming  down  again. — It's  all  true  enough! 
Every  one  of  them  paid  in  full ! 

MERCADET. — Paid —  Every  one —  (Goes  from  one  to 
the  other  and  looks  at  the  money  and  drafts  in  theif 
hands.)  Paid—  Settled  in  full!  I  see  everything 
around  turning  blue,  violet,  pink,  all  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow — 


SCENE    XIV 

THE  PRECEDING.     MADAME   MERCADET.     JULIE.     They 

enter  through  the  left  rear  door.     DE  LA  BRIVE, 

enters  through  the  door  to  the  right. 

MADAME  MERCADET. — My  dear,  Monsieur  Godeaunow 
feels  well  enough  to  see  you — 

MERCADET. — Ah,  here  you  are  at  last,  my  daughter, 
my  wife ;  come  to  me  and  you  also,  Adolphe,  and  you 
all,  my  friends,  come  closer,  look  me  in  the  face.  You 
do  not  want  to  deceive  me,  do  you? 

JULIE. — But  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  father — ? 

MERCADET. — Now  tell  me —  (For  the  first  time  he 
notices  De  La  Brive.)  What,  you  here,  without  a  dis- 
guise? 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — I  had  the  happy  inspiration,  sir,  to 
follow  Madame  Mercadet's  advice —  Otherwise  you 
would  have  had  two  Godeaus  at  the  same  time,  since 
heaven  has  returned  to  you  the  real  one — 

MERCADET. — So —     He — has — actually — returned? 

VERDELIN. — Then  you  did  not  know  it,  after  all? 


MERCADET  247 

MERCADET,  himself  again  and  rising  to  his  full  stature 
as  he  walks  to  the  round  table  and  begins  fingering  the 
bank  bills. — I — not — know — he  had  returned!  Wel- 
come home,  O  you  Queen  above  all  Kings!  Arch- 
duchess of  government  loans,  princess  of  stocks  and 
bonds,  mother  of  Credit !  Welcome  home,  O  Fortune 
so  ardently  pursued  here  and  who,  for  the  hundredth 
time  arrives  from  far-off  India!!  Ah,  how  often  did  I 
repeat  it  to  you  all,  Godeau's  great  heart  equals  his 
energy,  and  is  only  surpassed  by  his  towering 
probity!!!  (Goes  to  his  wife  and  daughter.)  And  now, 
you  two  dear  ones,  embrace  me ! 

MADAME  MERCADET,  weeping. — Ah,  my  dear,  dear 
husband ! ! 

MERCADET,  assisting  her. — Why,  you  weaken,  after 
being  so  strong  through  the  dark  days! 

MADAME  MERCADET. — I  have  not  the  strength  to  stand 
the  joy  of  seeing  you  rescued — rich  again — 

MERCADET. — Rich —  But  honest !  My  wife,  my  chil- 
dren, I  must  confess  it  now,  I  do  not  understand  how 
I  held  on  so  long —  How  I  resisted  such  endless 
fatigues,  such  constant  strain  of  the  mind,  always  on 
the  alert,  always  under  arms !  It  would  have  crushed 
a  giant —  At  times  I  wanted  to  run  away —  Ah,  give 
me  rest — rest —  Let  us  go  and  live  in  the  country — 

MADAME  MERCADET. — You'll  soon  weary  of  it — 

MERCADET. — No,  indeed,  I  shall  watch  their  happi- 
ness. (He  points  to  Minard  and  Julie.)  Besides,  agri- 
culture will  fill  my  spare  time—  I  feel  like  studying 
the  possibilities  of  agriculture.  (To  his  creditors.) 
Gentlemen,  we  shall  remain  friends,  but  do  no  more 
business  together—  (To  De  La  Brive.)  Monsieur  de 
La  Brive,  I  return  to  you  your  48,000  francs! 


24$  MERCADET 

DE  LA   BRIVE. Ah,   SIT  ! 

MERCADET. — And  I  loan  you  ten  thousand  more. 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — Ten  thousand  francs!  But  I  do  not 
know  when  I  shall  be  able  to  pay  you  back ! 

MERCADET. — Never  mind  that — accept — I  have  my 
purpose — 

DE  LA  BRIVE. — All  right — I  accept. 

MERCADET. — Just  what  I  dreamed,  for  now  I  am — a — 
creditor!  (Speaking  to  his  former  creditors  lined  up  in  a 
row  to  the  right. )  I — am — a —  Creditor ! ! 

MADAME  MERCADET,  pointing  to  the  door  at  the  back. — 
My  dear,  he  is  waiting — 

MERCADET. — That's  so —  Let  us  go  to  him !  I  have 
so  often  made  use  of  my  dear  old  Godeau — in  the  dis- 
tance, that  I  am  well  entitled  to  the  right  of  seeing 
him  again — in  the  flesh.  To  Godeau,  my  dear  wife, 
to  Godeau ! ! 

(FINAL  CURTAIN.) 


THE  END 

OF 
THE  DRAMATIC   WORKS   OF   BALZAC. 


ilCSB  LIBRARY 


